The Man Who Could Never Go Home
by OliveBranchStories
Summary: Merlin makes a mistake and a woman dies. He is forced to confront the question of whether Arthur should really be his priority or if it should be the people like him that the King is persecuting. What happens when Merlin starts to think he should be fighting to protect and free the magical community, whether or not Arthur is on his side? CURRENTLY ON HIATUS
1. Part I: Execution

**Hello everyone,**

**Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope you are all feeling well.**

**A new Merlin story! I didn't think I'd be writing any more Merlin stories after Until Forever Ends, that story was fun but it was a lot of work. However whilst listening to 'City of Angels' by 30 Seconds to Mars I had the idea of a single scene. As I thought about the scene a story sprang up around it and, well, here we are.  
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**This story will emphasize and explore ethics and morals. Sometimes in the Merlin universe the line is blurry when the interests of Arthur and the persecuted magical community conflict; this story is about that line. It's also about choices and consequences (hence the working title, 'Gavel.') Destiny is the big excuse and safety net for both Merlin and Arthur, what happens when it's taken away?**

**This first chapter will involve a bit of thinking and philosophy because otherwise Merlin's actions in later Parts will not be believable. Trust me though, there will be angst and action in coming Parts! I just want the angst and action to mean something.**

**At the moment I anticipate it will be a three or four part story. I wasn't sure if I should upload the first part before or after I have those parts written, but it might take me a while so I thought I'd upload it an we'll see what happens.  
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**This story is rated M for future violence.**

**Reviews will encourage me to write better and faster!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**The Man Who Could Never Go Home**

**Part I: The Execution.**

Merlin watched as the woman's hands were bound to the pole above the pyre and felt his soul quake. The world was too bright and the sunlight made knights in silver armor flash and flicker like a school of fish. Arthur gripped the windowsill in front of him, knuckles as white as bone.

Merlin felt a tearing of spirit; he wanted to fly out of the Prince's chambers and down to the courtyard, run to the pyre and set the innocent free. On the other hand he was Emrys. It was his destiny to bring magic back to the land, to bring peace. He needed to protect Arthur with his own secret magic and help Arthur unite Albion. And to do so, he needed to live.

He hated, hated, _hated _that he knew this, but it was more important that he live then the witch.

Arthur's life was paramount, then Merlin's, because he kept Arthur alive.

It was for Albion, Merlin whispered in his head as he watched the knights' jump down from the pyre. The courtyard was crowded with dignitaries and citizens but the woman just seemed all the more alone for it. She had no allies for hundreds of miles.

"Please! I have a child! I have a son! He needs me," the woman cried, wrenching at her bonds furiously.

Merlin could barely watch; there was a crashing feeling in his chest. This woman had clearly massively misunderstood King Uther if she thought he were capable of mercy; she had just damned her son to a life of running.

"Burn her," the King called from out of sight. Merlin heard his deep command come through the window and shiver through the walls. He felt the King's voice in his tired bones. He heard a muffled shout; the lady Morgana locked in her chambers, likely yelling curses and insults at the King.

Merlin sucked in a shallow breath. Then another, and another, but there wasn't enough air in the world for the number of breaths it would take to steady him.

"No, please! Help me! Somebody, anybody!" The woman writhed against the irons that held her magic out, blood was smearing beneath them.

A knight stepped forwards, faceless behind his standard issue helmet. He held a burning torch aloft in one hand and his armour reflected the hungry fire's light. He was a man but looked far from human.

"_No!_"The woman screamed, voice rasping, as the knight plunged the torch into the stacks of kindling. Soaked in oil the hay and reeds exploded into fire with the noise of a breaking window. Despite his helmet the knight stepped back and shielded his face with one hand.

Arthur shifted his weight as the fire raced upward, eating and eating.

"_Somebody help me, please!_"

Breath ragged Merlin closed his eyes, then forced them back open again. He was culpable. He was allowing this. He _would watch_.

The fire reached the sorceress and suddenly she started screaming out names of family, of friends; names of people who would move mountains to get to her if they only knew she needed saving.

Merlin blinked and tears ran down his face.

Wiping his eyes he looked away.

* * *

"You had no choice, Merlin," Gaius said through the crack beneath Merlin's door the next day. He was kneeling down; Merlin could hear him shuffling and the effort of it in his creaking voice. "You couldn't have done anything, you said yourself how Arthur was acting."

Letting his head thump back on the door he leaned against Merlin remembered what he'd said. He'd told Gaius about how he'd gone to Arthur and asked him to appeal to his father for the woman's sake. Arthur wouldn't, though he'd used the word 'couldn't.' He'd been wound tight, stressed and overwrought. Of course he didn't seem overwrought but Merlin had long since learned that there was a difference between what Arthur seemed and what Arthur was.

Arthur had said he couldn't face the execution alone and through a series of transparent actions had arranged for Merlin to be by his side the entire time. The result had been that Merlin couldn't sneak down to the dungeons to free her and the woman had had to die.

In the end the only two people who had faced the execution alone had been the woman and the King. But then, the King didn't so much face things as so much grab things by the jaw and make them face him.

"I should've done something," Merlin said to the crack beneath his door. An immediate scuffle told Merlin he'd surprised Gaius, who had not expected him to be so close.

"You _couldn't, _Merlin. I know this sounds terrible but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. You would sacrifice your life for Arthur and I know this is entirely different but…you know Albion is worth dying for, now you just have to come to terms that people other than you might be the ones who die for it."

Gaius' voice was muffled, loud enough to be heard through Merlin's door but not loud enough to travel through the main door and into the empty hallway, where anyone might be listening.

Merlin still felt badly ill but could understand the logic in what Gaius was saying; this logic from a man who had survived the Purge by staying quiet as the whole world burned.

* * *

"The harder the making the stronger the blade, you warlock. You did with courage what had to be done."

Courage?

Was that the name of cowardice these days?

"I'm supposed to be saving people with magic," Merlin said imploringly up to Kilgarrah.

He had left his room and headed for the caves, having entirely abandoned the notion of fulfilling his servant duties today. He was a mess; people would not like it if he roamed the castle in this state. His desperation and frayed nerves might seem funny at first, but on closer inspection were just alarming and sad.

So Merlin desperately sought justification for what he had done to sew closed the wound in his mind.

"I'm not supposed to be letting them get killed off one by one!"

Kilgarrah shifted on the rock, eyes fixed on Merlin like he was a deer or precious jewel. Stone groaned beneath him and shale peeled away, falling into the darkness. The chasm was so deep Merlin never heard it land.

"It was for the greater good," Kilgarrah said in a sliding, gravelly voice, sounding himself like unstable ground.

Merlin left the cave unsatisfied, dread gnawing a hole right through the middle of him.

* * *

"Why couldn't you have tried harder?"

At the sound of Merlin's demanding voice Arthur looked up. He was at his desk checking reports on the citadels stores and whilst he looked like he welcomed a distraction he didn't seemed thrilled that the distraction was an angry Merlin.

"Where have you been all day? I've had Gumby or whatever his name is serving me, and by serving me I mean smearing all of my food on my floor."

Merlin flung the door closed behind him and the bang made Arthur sharpen.

"Try harder to do what?" Arthur asked in a careful voice.

"Save the woman."

Arthur looked at Merlin then leaned back with an exhausted sigh, rubbing his eyes. He looked like a weary traveler and the question were a mountain somebody had just put in front of him.

"Merlin…"

"She was just a druid trader! The greatest magic she could cast was for door trinkets to keep bugs out! All she wanted to do was make a little money to take back to her family."

Merlin stepped forward then stopped, he didn't know if he wanted to cross the room and shake Arthur or press back into the wall and disappear.

"Magic is evil," Arthur said as though he hadn't listened to a word Merlin had said, "it is against the law."

"But what if it isn't evil? What if the law is-"

Arthur interrupted with a fierce bite to his voice.

"Be very careful, Merlin, you are coming close to treason."

Merlin was breathing hard. He felt hot and like he didn't fit his skin anymore. There was a horror rising within him that he was trying to deny but could see bleeding into the corner of his eyes. It was encroaching upon everything he could see.

Merlin pressed his fists to his skull and, seeming despite himself, concern mixed in with Arthur's Princely disapproval.

"Merlin?" He said.

"Couldn't she had been banished or something?" Merlin said, his voice undone, "She didn't hurt anyone, couldn't she have been sent away? Did she have to die?"

"Merlin," Arthur rose from his seat, losing the remainder of his sternness.

Merlin took a step back. He remembered Arthur suggesting to the King, with his 'might's' and maybes,' that the woman might be innocent, and then bowing his head immediately at a single look from his father. He remembered thinking, "Is that it? The great Arthur Pendragon? Once and Future King, champion of the people? Is that all he has to say?"

Merlin took another step away from Arthur, who was looking truly worried now, but it wasn't enough. Because it wasn't, in the end, Arthur he wanted to scape.

Merlin had done nothing. In all of his nightmares Merlin was burning on the pyre and a thousand eyes just watched without a shred of compassion or empathy. Not a soul reached out to save him, as though there were no kindness left in the world.

And then he had done the exact same thing.

_Nothing_.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur asked, coming around the table.

"Sorry for having bothered you," Merlin gasped, "please excuse me."

He fled the room as Arthur called his name.

* * *

Merlin stood in the moonlit courtyard staring at the stones beneath him. Scraps of cloud kept passing over the moon, throwing Merlin into shadowed darkness then casting him in silver light. When he closed his eyes and really listened, above the noises of the castle at night and sleepy birds in the distance he could hear the rustle of the clouds flying.

The courtyard was deserted and Merlin knew subconsciously, without even thinking, that he would know if anybody was coming. His magic would warn him and he could make him scarce long before anybody turned a corner and found him standing where the witch had burned.

The pyre's remains had been swept away but when Merlin leant down and ran his fingers in the cracks he could feel the ash that had been left behind.

The cold wind slipped down his jacket and he felt himself get blown away.

Had he been right? Or should he have acted?

What gave her the right to live, more than him?

What gave him the right to live, more than her?

Was it the Greater Good? For he could serve the Greater Good more than anyone.

Or could he?

Was it really in the Greater Good to value people differently, letting one person die so that a more valuable person might live?

Merlin couldn't reconcile that reasoning with what he had seen. Uther had given sorcerers and sorceresses the value of dogs, and genocide had ensued.

That was an easy no.

The harder question, the one that ate him up inside, was whether it was right to sacrifice an individual for the masses. Was that for the Greater Good?

Sacrificing himself was one thing, he had power over that, it was his choice. It was noble. It meant something.

But sacrificing somebody else?

Could one person point at another and decree that they must die for the Greater Good?

Could that ever be right?

* * *

A few days later Arthur was out on a hunt, Merlin bumbling behind even more distracted than usual. Both were pretending the confusing and emotional exchange from the day before hadn't happened; it was easier and less awkward.

There were a few knights with them, treading heavily on the earth. Merlin could not look at them without thinking about fire and feeling very exposed.

Everybody had spread out and was moving slowly through the trees when Merlin felt his neck prickle. Looking around he saw a druid through the trees, standing in dappled light. She was very difficult to see and it seemed more that Merlin could sense her.

With a look in her eye and a tip of her head the druid stepped away and out of sight. Glancing around and ensuring nobody was watching the silly, clumsy servant, Merlin jogged away as quietly as he could. Rounding a copse of blackwood trees he came face to face with the woman. There were nettles in her hair; a bird slept on her shoulder. Her eyes were not happy eyes.

"Come, Emrys," she said and slid into the blackwood shade and vanished.

Breathing deeply, smelling earth and wood and magic, Merlin followed her.

It was a supernatural pathway grown right out of the ground; probably ineffectual for those without magic it could tap into. When Merlin emerged he found himself outside a druid camp, the druid woman waiting for him a few steps away from the pathway's exit. Seeing him appear she turned and walked away, leading him into camp.

The tents were humble and patched and seemed to consist more of repair work then of complete canvas. The ground was covered in green grass that hadn't lost its spring; druids never stayed in one place long enough to leave a mark.

"What's going on?" Merlin asked slightly warily. Instead of moving about camp talking and laughing like they did in all of the druid settlements Merlin had visited before, all of the families were tucked into their own tents. The children peered out at him with owlish eyes, the adults had guarded expressions.

The woman didn't answer. She didn't have to. They had reached the camp's main fire and Merlin could now see that a gathering of druids sat around it. It would not be correct to call them Elders, druids did not grow to a very old age and even some of the gathered druids looked young by their standards, but they all had an air of authority. They all looked at Merlin with same hooded eyes that followed him from every door.

"Emrys," a druid man with plaited hair said. The druid Merlin had followed sat down on the man's far side.

"Yes," Merlin said, shifting his focus onto the man with plaited hair; his hair was black and his skin was dark.

"I am Felin, we are the council for the tribe," he said.

The druids murmured and then, like wind over a lake, whispered their names.

"Dura."

"Terrisa."

"Aesin."

"Golden-tree."

"Hissa."

"You were brought here because we have a question for you," said the woman who had led Merlin; he thought she was Golden-tree.

"Yes?" Conscious that he had not been invited to sit down Merlin put his hands behind his back and stood at the loose-attention stance servants did when waiting to be called on at royal feasts.

"Why did you let Ereesa die, Emrys?" Felin asked.

The druids whispered his question with him, some saying 'die' but others hissing 'be killed,' 'be murdered,' 'be executed.'

Merlin felt like he had been struck over the head with a frying pan. _This _was the sorceress's druid tribe!

"She was one of you?" He asked, "Her name was Ereesa?"

It seemed significant and very sad that he was learning her name only now.

The druids just watched him and Merlin remembered the question.

"I…" he said, thoughts tumbling over each other, "the risk was…" he swallowed, "too great."

The druids kept watching him. Their expressions were not of blame but they were very serious.

"The prince, Prince Arthur, the Once and Future King that is, he was watching me the whole time. I couldn't get away to help her," the explanation sounded too short, but he didn't want to overcompensate and babble.

Now, the druid Felin looked down.

"But…you could have saved her?" One of the other druids, Merlin didn't know which name was theirs, said.

"I could have," he said in a voice that was hard so as not to betray his trembling chin, "yes."

Exchanging looks, the druids started to look concerned.

"You could have saved her, but you did not?" One asked. Silencing the circle with a look an old druid looked up at Merlin. Firelight played in her eyes.

"It is not our place to say 'You,'" she pointed a gnarled finger at Merlin, "'Go and die for her.' But you have needed our aid in the past, you have accepted our sacrifices. If you did not intend to accept your destiny of saving magic, you should not have led us on so."

"I do want to save magic," Merlin protested.

"We offer all shelter, druids, commoners, injured knights. We would still have aided you when your need was dire, but we would not have done so with false hope."

"It's not false hope," Merlin said, stepping forward, "I did it _for_ destiny; I did it to _save _magic."

The druids exchanged another look.

"Please explain," Golden-tree said.

"I could not save her without revealing myself," desperation tinged the edges of his voice, "and if I revealed myself I wouldn't be able to stay in Camelot. I'd either be killed or banished. Either way, I would have had to leave the Prince, and he can't become the Once and Future King and unite Albion without me."

Felin stood.

"And you think that letting innocent people die is the way to become the person who could do this?"

Merlin recoiled.

"By keeping your eyes fixed on the future you desire you do not realize that the road beneath your feet does not go there."

"I never asked for destiny," Merlin said angrily, "it was shoved upon me, now I am doing the best that I can."

The other druids stood. Suddenly Merlin felt like the whole world was watching him; the weight of it made his magic roil.

"Destinies are tricky magic, as troublesome as their interpretations are numerous. The future is not guaranteed, you know this. Even the mere action of scrying changes that which is being scyed," Felin said.

"Some beings of magic believe destiny is an iron clad prediction," Golden-tree said, the council shifting at the mention of iron. "But we believe it comes down to choice."

"Everything does, in the end," said a dark woman who Merlin thought had called herself Dura. She closed her eyes, "come down to choice."

"I'm trying to save people so they'll be alive to make choices!" Merlin said.

"There is more to goodness in society then having the greatest amount of people," Golden-tree stepped forward, next to Felin. "Camelot has a very large population, and we druids have very small, but that does not mean we should aim to emulate her. Genocide was committed in Camelot's name, friends and families are suspicious and divided. If you use the reasoning of the greater the people the better, then you would not think there is anything wrong with parents handing a babe born with magic to the king, reasoning that it is better for only one to die then all of them. With that sort of life, what are they living for?"

Striding back and forth across his room Merlin agonized all night.

He had a lot to think about, and what he decided could very well change his life. Merlin tried not to let the fear of what might happen, or the fear that he might've done the wrong thing, change his reasoning. He wanted to do what was _right_, not what felt right.

He thought about what the druids had said.

Camelot was a grand and beautiful place, but only the castle. The real Camelot, the people, were deceitful and suspicious, divided and selfish. Everybody was too busy fearing that they would be the one who died next to enjoy the wonder and glory that people were supposedly being killed for.

The druids, on the other hand, never left each other behind, never left each other for dead.

They were few in number but they were true to each other.

Merlin had heard Uther and, increasingly, Arthur talk about the Greater Good, justifying sacrificing one for the many. Their reasoning had made sense. Why would he save one person? Because he valued life. So didn't it make more sense to sacrifice the individual to save the masses? He would be saving more people, saving more life.

But what was life _for_? Was life lived for the sake of its on self-perpetuation, living longer and breeding? Was the meaning of life the mere functionings of biology?

That sat wrong with Merlin. That implied that somebody who would die young was worth less then somebody who would die old, or that somebody who did not have children was less valuable then somebody who did.

What else could life be for?

What did humans have other than their bodies?

Their souls, their minds, their autonomy.

"Choice," Merlin muttered, pausing in his pacing and remembering again the druids.

Could it be better for a society, to value the individual even at expense of the masses?

It seemed such valuing was necessary for a trust based community, based on the comparison between Camelot and the druids. Everybody in Camelot was so afraid of being next that any sense of community was a joke.

But then, what point was there in preserving a trusting society when everybody was too dead to enjoy it?

Merlin sat down on his bed. His head hurt.

Endless questions. It seemed each question spawned several more. Each with its own consequences, each with its own hook in his heart.

* * *

Merlin kept thinking about these questions over the next few days. He often found himself paused mid-task, staring off into the distance, thinking. Apparently his thinking face was a gormless expression because more than once his thoughts had been interrupted by Arthur telling him to stop with the dead-fish expression, as he put it.

Three days after his visit to the druids Merlin was sitting on Arthur's floor, polishing his boots, as Arthur sharpened his sword. As an expert swordsman Arthur cleaned and serviced his equipment himself; it kept him familiar with it. Merlin knew he also found it relaxing, though Arthur would deny this should it ever be suggested.

It was only when Arthur suddenly barked, "Really, Merlin, again?" that Merlin realized he had been sitting in the middle of the floor, mind a million miles away, for the sixth time that day.

"Huh-what?" He said, blinking and looking around. He looked down at what he was holding. Whose shoe was this? It certainly wasn't one of Arthur's. He looked up.

"What is the matter with you lately?" Arthur asked. He was leaning back in his chair with his sword balanced on his knees, scowling at Merlin.

"Nothing," Merlin said immediately.

"Yeah sure," Arthur said, entirely disbelieving. "Out with it."

"It's seriously nothing, Arthur, mere peasant triflings," Merlin tried a winning grin. It lost.

"Merlin, don't make me come over there," Arthur replied, though from his slouch he evidently had no intention of going anywhere.

Merlin sighed. He was so exhausted from his incessant thinking that he didn't even engage in his usual quota of banter before acquiescing.

"Do you think it's right if one person is sacrificed for the good of others?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Pardon?" He said. The polite word used with a not so polite tone of disbelief, as though a servant had no business with philosophy.

Merlin sighed again. It was too late to turn back now.

These questions and their consequences all involved Arthur keenly. It felt dishonest not to ask Arthur's opinion even if Arthur didn't know the reasons or situation behind the asking.

"Do you think it can be right for one person to be killed for the good of others?"

"Yes," Arthur said immediately.

Merlin looked around.

Oddly, Arthur's certainty and immediacy made Merlin feel…small.

"Why?"

"If it's for the Greater Good, it can be justified," Arthur said. He was frowning at Merlin.

"Since when do you think about big questions like that? I thought you'd be busy…I don't know…counting sheep or whatever."

It was half a joke, half Arthur's blustering way of saying 'I don't understand you,' but it riled Merlin up.

"Many people think people like Gwen and I are worth less than 'real people' because we are peasants," he snapped. He'd used the word 'peasant' before in passing but now he threw it down at Arthur's feet to see if the Prince would step on it.

"What?" Arthur said, taken aback.

Merlin looked away from him.

"Don't belittle me," Merlin said, "when you belittle me you sound just like the sort of people who think people in lower classes are less important than they are. They wouldn't even think about sacrificing a peasant if it meant saving a bunch of aristocrats, even if there was another way that was just difficult."

Arthur stiffened.

"If you are going to take what I said personally I won't have this discussion," Arthur said.

Merlin made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"In saying that, I wouldn't just off you for a bunch of dignitaries," Arthur said in an incredibly grudging tone.

"Arthur, please, control your emotions you're embarrassing yourself," Merlin said sarcastically and both of them fell silent. Merlin took up scrubbing the boot again.

After a few moments silence Arthur spoke in a thoughtful voice.

"I do think killing one for the many is right if it is absolutely certain to work-"

Merlin looked up.

"But nothing in life is absolutely certain," he said.

"Exactly," Arthur mused. He was now staring out his window with the vacant expression Merlin had been wearing earlier.

"And if it's one person or, you know, a kingdom of thousands, then it is justified. But that's hardly a realistic scenario."

"What if that did happen? Your kingdom or an innocent person?" Merlin asked. "Not a knight or someone whose chosen to be in that sort of 'my life for my kingdom' scenario. Someone else. A baker. A child. Could you kill a little child for Camelot?"

Arthur rubbed his hand over his mouth.

"A sorcerer's child?" Merlin said, suddenly finding himself daring.

"Yes," Arthur said softly. Merlin felt a small disaster happen in his heart. He took the pain and put it to something useful.

Questions.

"Really? A small child who has never done any harm? You would have Camelot built on their murder?"

"Lawful execution isn't murder," Arthur said automatically, but Merlin could see he was still thinking.

He himself had a lot to think about, he could feel the answers clarifying within him. They weren't entirely the ones he had wished to find. Though Arthur argued against magic what he had said had started Merlin on the slippery slope of favoring the innocent woman, Ereesa.

Or what she represented, that is. With a sour feeling Merlin acknowledged it was too late to do right by her.

As Arthur stared out the window Merlin had a small heart to heart with himself.

From what the druids had said about destiny and choice and Arthur's continued inaction, his 'destiny' of returning magic to the land was far from a sure thing. Not that Merlin would give up on it but, here he closed his eyes, he needed to be realistic. Sacrifices made in the name of Albion _weren't _being made in the name of Albion; they were being made on the chance of Albion.

Merlin himself was willing to take risks for just the chance of Albion, but he wasn't willing to kill for it. He could not reconcile sacrificing innocent people on the hope of a chance with his sense of justice and what was right. He wanted to help Arthur unite Albion, but not if it was built on bones.

Merlin glanced up at Arthur, who was now staring at his sword with that same glazed expression, then glanced guiltily away.

This conclusion lead him into a serious problem because its reasoning dictated that his priority should not be Arthur. Arthur may never choose to accept magic; it made little sense to keep waiting for something that may never happen.

Instead, his priority should be the persecuted people. The druids, the sorcerers, the sorceresses, not just those with magic, it's sympathizers as well. Anybody whose neck was caught beneath the boot of Uther Pendragon.

And his son.

Merlin scrambled to his feet. Blinking in surprise at the sudden movement Arthur looked up and focused his eyes on his servant's face.

"I need to go," Merlin said.

"You're not finished," Arthur said and looked down to the half polished boots Merlin had discarded.

"I'll do it later, I promise, but I…there's something I need to do," Merlin said, turning his back on Arthur.

"Why do you keep randomly leaving?" Arthur shouted indignantly to the closing door.

* * *

Gaius was in the deserted library, researching a minor illness from the lower town in the large, dusty tombs that lined the shelves. After double and triple checking the library was deserted Merlin closed the doors and locked them. He then made his way back to Gaius' desk. Gaius had obviously heard the locking of the door as he was looking up warily. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Hello Merlin," he said, returning to his book and turning a stiff page.

Merlin couldn't settle, couldn't relax. With all of this twitchy energy sitting down seemed like a bizarre concept. Gaius seemed to notice because he looked up again.

"What's wrong?" He asked concernedly.

"Have you ever realized something, but what you've realized is so scary you wished you never thought of it?" Merlin asked desperately, wringing his hands.

"No, I can't say I have," Gaius said, eyebrows coming together in worry. "Merlin…"

"Because…well, I've learnt something recently," Merlin started to pace, "and it's…it's not good…well, it's good…right, I suppose…but I don't like it, I don't want to do it."

"Merlin, what are you talking about?" Gaius stood and moved around the table.

"I don't think Arthur is my destiny," Merlin said, swaying on his feet, torn between allowing Gaius to approach and comfort him and avoiding human contact out of sheer confusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

"That sorceress, who got executed a few days ago? I talked to the druids, and they were saying stuff about choice, and now I think I need to…to…lead a revolution or something!" Merlin resisted the urge to grab his hair.

"What? Merlin, slow down," Gaius looked alarmed now. "Whatever it is we can find the answer to it. Go from the start."

"The other day, because of Ar…well, I let Ereesa, the sorceress, burn. Because of destiny and saving myself so I could help Arthur unite Albion and, well you know…" Merlin looked down, shamefaced.

Gaius nodded as he evidently remembered their conversation just a few hours after the execution.

"You know I was…worried, I guess, that I'd made the wrong choice. Well, I talked to you and Kilgarrah and…three days ago I was out on a hunt with Arthur when a druid came and took me to her camp. It was the camp Ereesa had come from, and they asked why I hadn't saved her. I said the thing about needing to be around Arthur for Albion, but they made some…"

Merlin stared into the yellow lamp light without seeing it.

"…interesting points," he concluded.

"I can see from you're expression you think you were wrong not to interfere with the execution," Gaius said. "Merlin, you don't have to die for everyone."

"I am the only one who can set things right, I'm the only one who can stop Uther's injustice," Merlin whispered, as though the knowledge crouched in the room with them, listening. "If I don't, then what am I? How can I fix the world later by letting it get broken worse now? It doesn't make sense."

"Your destiny is to unite Albion with _Arthur_, when Arthur is ready!" Gaius said urgently.

Merlin didn't respond. The room was very quiet.

"_Merlin_, uniting Albion with Arthur is your destiny, not…not revolution."

"Why?" Merlin asked, staring at the grain of the wooden floor beneath his feet.

"What do you mean, why?"

"What evidence is there that Arthur is going to suddenly start caring that magic isn't evil? He's seen it used for good before but nothing has changed. Why should I think this is going to magically change in the future?"

"The prophecy of Emrys," Gaius said desperately.

"Prophecy is just something a stranger once said about people they didn't know. The druids think prophecy is about what we choose; you and Kilgarrah think it's literal. I don't know what to think about destiny. But I do know one thing. I can't let the killing go on any more," Merlin closed his eyes, "by my sanity I cannot abide this."

"Merlin, think very carefully about this," Gaius advised with one hand lifted in placation, or perhaps warning.

"I have been thinking about it, Gaius. And no matter if prophecies and destiny is real or not real or just up to us, I can't let people die for me anymore," Merlin's voice cracked. "I just can't."

The old man was silent for a long, long moment, looking at his ward. Finally he stepped forward and took Merlin's hands in his own calloused fingers.

"Okay Merlin, it will be okay. We'll figure it out."

Merlin inhaled a shaky breath, looked Gaius in the eyes and nodded.


	2. Part II: Beginning

**Hello lads and lasses,**

**Second installment. Last time I said I thought it would be 3 or 4 parts, yeah that's not going to happen. It's going to be as long as it needs to be, however long that is. I'll try to update every Saturday but can't make any promises.**

**I also thought I'd answer reviews for the previous chapter in the start of the current chapter. It's something I have wanted to try but have a hard time remembering previously. Hence, two people will have already received message responses but I'll answer them again here in the name of consistency.**

**Review Responses:**

**ProcrastinationIsMyCrime: Thank you, Merlin definitely does some dramatic and desperate things later in the story; these are just the first stones that will eventually form a landslide.**

**The MightyE: Thank you.**

**Mark: Thank you for the feedback.  
**

**Guest: Despite Merlin's frequent verbal sparring with Arthur, his faith in Arthur does seem to eclipse his self-respect. It almost seems like his prioritization of Arthur is a part of his personality, so I'm going to have fun poking that with a stick.**

**And now, Part II.**

**(Becomes roman numerals, much like bow ties, are cool.)  
**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Part II: Beginning**

Arthur had never liked burnings.

He knew he was supposed to; they punished the use of magic whilst also cleansing Camelot of its insidious taint. His father would watch an execution by fire without hesitation or doubt; proud of this thing he had wrought. But Arthur found he couldn't help hating them, every aspect of them. He used to have nightmares about the smell and how the sorcerers stopped looking human long before they had stopped moving. Whenever he watched a person being burnt to death at the stake he couldn't help but think, "Nobody deserves this."

The previous week had started with a burning and so Arthur had spent the rest of it horse riding, hunting and hammering his knights into the dirt. He filled his mind with correct form and aching muscles and made a concerted effort to exhaust his body every day. Every night since the execution he had fallen into an immediate, dreamless sleep; of course what dreamless really meant was nightmare-free.

He didn't always need to drive himself into the ground to forget the _look _in the eyes of the damned. Arthur used to be able to just stop feeling and stop thinking through sheer willpower and a paralyzing horror. But he needed to resort to these extreme methods, all thanks to one thing.

More specifically, one idiot.

Merlin.

Since he had become Arthur's servant every time a burning occurred Merlin suffered a sort of severe attack of the conscience that manifested itself in odd, often alarming ways. He got an even worse memory than usual, had outbursts over seemingly insignificant things and a sudden tendency towards open emotions, which made Arthur very uncomfortable. Additionally, the longer Merlin was his servant the more Arthur learned about him, so with every new burning Arthur noticed a new aspect of Merlin's bewildering but undeniably genuine distress.

After the first few burnings Merlin had seen he had gone quiet in a deep, painful sort of way. It was more than just not talking; Merlin would disappear inside himself for a time and have a sort of internal civil war Arthur was not privy to. He had been forced to realize that Merlin was not just a maddening, quirky peasant who existed as both a subject of and audience for the Prince's hilarious sense of humour.

However as time progressed Merlin had starting talking. He began asking questions, and he asked questions with a vengeance. Sharp questions, heavy questions, questions that cut Arthur up even as he tried to answer them. As the burnings continued Merlin became less and less concerned that what he said sounded like treason and Arthur began to see that there was a recklessness in Merlin that he had miscalculated. It was more than just scrambling into battle after his Prince, it was being thrown into jail for saying something and then, upon his release, saying the same thing all over again. Arthur couldn't understand where Merlin's fervor came from. The servant had seen the damage magic could do, had been on the receiving end of more than one magical attack, but without fail after every execution he would be there in front of Arthur with his strange grief and his unknowable motivation and his question, "Why?"

Always that question, "Why?"

The most recent execution had occurred after a long dry spell. Indeed the gaps between executions were getting longer and longer, to the point where the smell and the sight of them would hit Arthur all over again every time. Merlin had reacted with a wild, alarming grief that Arthur hadn't been able to get his hands on. There'd been a look in Merlin's eye that Arthur hadn't recognized and couldn't forget.

When Merlin had stormed into Arthur's chambers then stormed right out again Arthur had been on the verge of following him, but had stopped himself before he could reach the door. He realized he had been yelling out Merlin's name and was about to go chasing after him. As soon as Arthur thought about what it would look like and who might see pride wouldn't allow it. He let Merlin go with some reluctance, but he let him go nonetheless.

They were noticeably awkward towards each other over the next few days. Neither brought up Merlin's outburst but the memory of it still shuffled into every room with them, knocking over the furniture and staring at them both. Arthur was more than ready for life to go back to normal, or whatever the closest to normal life as the Prince of Camelot could get to. And it did, for a whole week the world was its usual not-quite-normal normal.

He should've known it couldn't last.

* * *

Two weeks to the day had passed since the sorceress had been burnt, enough time for Arthur to move on and, apparently, enough time for Merlin's hand wringing and agonizing to resolve itself into action.

Like a bony black street dog that wanted the bone in a lion's mouth Merlin came into Arthur's chambers, Arthur's domain, sunk his teeth into the issue and wouldn't let go.

It had started off with an unusual dinner, unusual because it was still hot from the kitchens. Arthur had thought it was just a happy mistake, doing anything properly was the result of a mistake for Merlin, but it didn't take long for him to realize it had been an attempt to put him in a good mood.

"On time for once," Arthur remarked as he buttered a steaming roll. The roll was actually warm enough that the butter melted as he did so. "And the bread rolls are still hot. Who are you and what have you done with Merlin?"

"I am an imposter whose schemes consist of providing you with a good breakfast," Merlin replied as he made Arthur's bed, or at least did his version of making Arthur's bed which involved staring at it as tough he were sizing up a formidable opponent.

Enjoying the hot meal Arthur graciously awarded Merlin a chuckle for his joke.

"You can stay," he said around his mouthful of roll.

When Arthur glanced across Merlin rolled his eyes in an extravagant gesture of exasperation, which was so typical of Merlin that Arthur laughed again.

"The soup is hot too!" Arthur nearly yelled in happy astonishment, having just scalded the roof of his mouth with the boiling liquid.

He glanced up to share a look with Merlin but the servant was looking down at the rumpled bedcovers again as though they were the most complicated thing in the world. He looked aggrieved, as opposed to his usual perplexed, so with his usual brand of sensitivity Arthur asked, "What's with the face?"

He speared a piece of cooked lamb as Merlin replied, "I need to talk to you, Arthur."

Jabbing his fork into a piece of potato as well Arthur transferred the small mound of food into his mouth. It was a delicious mixture of smoky, simple flavours and an explosion of spices and herbs.

"You are talking to me," he said as he reached for his goblet. He took a swig of wine.

"It's about what happened the other day…" Merlin was speaking in a sort of careful voice that made Arthur irritable due to the fact that, first, it made him anxious.

"Merlin this is _Camelot, _something happens every day. Be a little more specific and spit it out will you?" Arthur ordered as he wiped his mouth.

"It's about the sorceress who was executed."

The sentence was bulky and cumbersome and knocked against Merlin's teeth.

Arthur's stomach did a little snarl and his temper bared its teeth. Keeping himself in careful control Arthur looked at Merlin, wary.

"Is this about how you ran into my room and started yelling at me and got all upset then ran out again?" he asked with a bluntness that encouraged Merlin to drop the issue immediately.

"Sort of," Merlin gave up on the wrinkled bed covers and moved to stand next to the end post of the bed on the closest side to Arthur.

"Not really," he added, not quite meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Sort of not really?" Arthur repeated.

Of course he knew better then to try and intimidate _Merlin _into silence but still, old habits died hard.

Or not at all, sometimes.

Merlin looked up at the Prince. The thick wooden bed post and heavy gold-thread drapes loomed over him and his shabbiness and made him look smaller then he was. But still, he lifted his head and squared his thin shoulders and declared,

"I don't think what happened to her was right."

Arthur wasn't surprised. He was the entire opposite of surprised. This was Merlin's typical, complete disregard for social law and his own standing in Camelot. However, Merlin had not been immediately deterred by Arthur's Merlin-deterrent tone, so Arthur had to choose to either ignore him or engage. It was hardly even a choice for Arthur, really. Ignoring a fight was tantamount to giving in and giving in went against every part of his nature.

"You don't think a criminal being punished for committing a crime is right?" He said.

"She didn't hurt anyone and she didn't plan to hurt anyone. She didn't deserve to die," Merlin responded quickly. He sounded like he had been preparing for this discussion.

"She used magic, Merlin, we've been over this," Arthur said, tired and patient, "magic is…"

"Evil?" Merlin challenged.

Something in the room changed. Tightened.

Arthur put down his knife and fork carefully, wiped his mouth on a dining cloth and sat up straighter. It was a practiced series of actions; he'd sparred over many a dining table with his father and Morgana.

"Why?" Merlin asked; eyes trained on Arthur's face.

The two young men looked at each other, each sizing up the other and see the other sizing them up in turn.

"It is used by sorcerers to hurt and kill innocent people," Arthur said.

"Swords have been used to hurt and kill innocent people," Merlin countered immediately.

"Swords are used to defend Camelot," Arthur said sharply, feeling oddly protective of his own blade propped against the dining table.

"Mostly against soldiers using _swords _to attack," Merlin said.

"That's ridiculous, swords aren't evil, they are inanimate objects."

"If swords are governed by those who use them, why can't magic?"

This alluded comparison between him and a magic-wielder got Arthur's back up.

"Magic is _only _used for evil; swords can be used to protect the innocent."

"The druids use magic but they never attack anybody," Merlin said, punctuating his speech with small hand gestures as though he couldn't quite contain himself. "They often offer aid to complete strangers. Magic can heal as well as hurt but a sword can only ever hurt."

"I'd say that this is bordering on treasonous talk," Arthur said waspishly, "but look behind you, you crossed that line a while ago."

Merlin took a step forwards and Arthur had to resist the compulsion to surge to his feet.

"That's a cheap response, Arthur, it's beneath you. Don't try to silence me with accusations of treason just because I made an argument you cannot counter."

"Okay, I won't accuse you of treason. I'll point it out to you, because apparently it's not obvious. _That's treason, Merlin_," Arthur snapped.

His growing anger was not just because treason was an insult to him and an insult to his father, though that was admittedly a very large portion of it, he was also angry because such talk was likely to get Merlin killed one of these days.

Pride and fear. A combination that catalyzed an anxious, dangerous rage.

Merlin was obviously forcing himself not to speak in anger. He worked his jaw for a moment as though chewing on what Arthur had said, then took a deep breath. The inhalation was shaky with temper, but the exhalation was soft and controlled.

"Arthur," Merlin said and for a moment Arthur was envious of how calm he had managed to sound. "You once helped me save a druid child from being executed. I don't believe you would've done that if you thought he was a threat."

Arthur glared at Merlin. How could he bring up an example of Arthur's betrayal of his own father's law now?

"Remember that light you told me about? When you went to get the flower for that antidote after I got poisoned? And…do you remember my friend Will? He used magic to save you," Merlin's voice became quiet and intense. "He wasn't evil. He was born with magic, he had no choice. He only ever used it to help."

Arthur ground his teeth and looked away. That was a cunning blow and he hadn't thought Merlin the sort to use it. Arthur could hardly argue against magic without insulting Will's memory and Merlin's own friendship with the sorcerer. Merlin was using Arthur's respect for the dead against him.

His mind was hazy, he felt angry and a little betrayed, so Arthur almost missed the rest of Merlin's small pro-magic speech.

"He could've left Ealdor, he was very talented. There are many kingdoms where his power would be celebrated. There he would've been equal with royalty. But he chose to stay in Ealdor where he was in danger because of the prejudice that spread from Camelot because he wanted to be where he was most needed…and simply…because he didn't want to leave his family and friends. Does that sound evil to you?"

"There are always exceptions," Arthur said stiffly, trying simultaneously to win this ridiculous argument and be respectful of the man who, though Arthur loath to admit it, had saved his life.

"And the druids, Arthur?" Merlin asked, "that's a pretty big exception."

Arthur felt like he was being pushed into a corner. He had been getting pushed into corners his whole life and he hated it.

"What do you want from me?" Arthur snarled, all trapped and miserable.

Merlin stepped forward again and Arthur almost snapped out something else, then he realized Merlin was not advancing provocatively, but earnestly. Merlin's expression had passion and hope and deference in it. The deference looked like a mask on him; it didn't seem to fit properly with the muscles on the servant's face.

"Think about it Arthur," Merlin said quietly, "all of the evidence indicates that magic is not evil, it is just occasionally used, like a sword, by bad people for bad purposes. Just…please _think _about it."

"Why?" Arthur asked, irritated enough that he didn't stop himself from parroting Merlin's own favorite question back at him.

He didn't like the persuading tone in Merlin's voice or the look on his face. It all felt too much like he wanted something from Arthur just like every other damn person in the whole damn world did.

"Because once you acknowledge that magic isn't evil you'll realize executing people solely on the grounds of having it is unjust."

Arthur stood up slowly as Merlin approached.

"Are you saying that my father is an unjust King?" He asked in a serrated voice.

Merlin stopped advancing. He was now the wary one. The fact that he did not immediately answer with "No," made Arthur move around his desk as though he were readying for a fight.

"I think you're father believes magic is evil, and that executing people with it is the right thing to do," Merlin said cautiously. It did little to placate Arthur.

"Are you saying," Arthur repeated, "that my father is an unjust King?"

Merlin turned his head sidewards ever so slightly, a cornered look, as though trying a different angle in order to better see if a hit was coming.

"Answer the question," Arthur demanded.

"No," Merlin said, "I didn't come here to fight."

"So you _do_ think he is an unjust King," Arthur stepped forward, fingers itching reflexively for a sword.

"That's not what we are talking about; we are talking about if magic is evil. Please, Arthur, look at the evide-"

Merlin was imploring him again, trying to get Arthur to do what he wanted. How dare he try to manipulate Arthur? Especially after insulting his father, _Merlin's _King.

"This is treason," Arthur interrupted with a voice like his father's, "shut up before I have you thrown in the dungeon."

Merlin looked upset, desperation in the edges of his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, rocking on his heels but refusing to back away as his Prince stalked towards him.

"Please Arth-"

"_Shut up, Merlin_."

Merlin clamped his mouth shut. Arthur was an arm's length away now and staring him down. Merlin turned his head a little more and his eyes skipped away, resolve flickering. Then he glanced back. The glance became a look. Merlin faced his Prince.

He looked determined in a way that Arthur had never seen before. He didn't know how it was different, only that it looked greater then itself, like it wasn't Merlin he was looking at but the face of a whole people. Looking at Merlin felt like vertigo.

"It's important you think about this," Merlin said quickly. His sentence was over and irrevocably heard by the time Arthur had drawn enough air in his lungs to yell, "GUARDS!"

* * *

Merlin had tried.

It was not much, but he had tried.

Narrow arms dangling through the familiar bars to his cell, elbows resting on the cross beam, Merlin leaned his head against the door wearily. He stood in a blue shadow, the light of the guards' oil lamps did not reach as far as him.

He had been hoping he could convince Arthur to talk to Uther, change all of this without anyone having to get hurt and without him having to resort to his magic. It had been a terribly long shot, both trying to convince Arthur and hoping Uther could somehow be reasoned with, but he had had to take it.

Merlin knew that when things started to downhill and began to get dark and desperate, as he could feel in his bones that they would, it would be very important that he had tried.

Not that he had not given up on Arthur, of course. As long as there was hope Merlin would hold onto it with a tenacity bordering on fanaticism, but now the path was going to get a lot rougher. Whilst telling Arthur the truth about his magic would show him absolutely unavoidable proof that it could be used for good, it also meant that Arthur would not just be basing his decision on justice but on whether or not he was willing to forgive Merlin. Merlin had often imagined telling Arthur about his magic and Arthur laughing and thanking him and forgiving him all in one breath, but realistically he knew it wouldn't be like that. He couldn't _not_ do it though, it was his biggest chance of convincing Arthur that magic wasn't evil and it was his last chance to win Arthur over before the revolution began.

Because there might not be any executions in the citadel right now but in holds and towns spread across Camelot there would be. Mobs would still be forming and people would still be getting dragged from their homes onto cold, cobbled streets. People would still be getting torn apart by so called friends and strung up by so called justice, all in the name of Uther's paranoia. People were being murdered by the King even as he slept; change could not wait for Arthur indefinitely.

* * *

Merlin was released from the dungeon just before lunchtime the next day. Having missed dinner the night before and breakfast that morning his stomach was making gnarled little noises of protest as he entered his and Gaius chambers.

Gaius was sitting next to his working table, grinding some herbs for a poultice. He looked up when he saw Merlin and immediately stood, making his way to their small kitchen in the corner of the room and returning with a plate of bread and cheese.

"Thanks," Merlin said, collapsing into a chair opposite Gaius' seat and falling ravenously upon the meal.

"I take it your talk didn't go well," Gaius said as he sat back down. In the many discussions he and Merlin had during the previous week he had predicted it wouldn't. Merlin gave Gaius a sideward frown that told him in no uncertain terms that he could keep any "I told you so"s to himself.

"So…" Gaius said instead, having seen Merlin's look, "now…Morgana?"

He looked worried and doubtful.

"Morgana," Merlin said firmly, nodding over his half-finished meal.

"Are you sure-?"

"After I tell Arthur," Merlin didn't have to specify what, "if he doesn't…if it goes badly, we might need to act fast. We need an ally, somebody else who can talk to the druids and organize things. And for when it actually happens we need someone to rule in the transition. Morgana is someone the people will accept. Say what you like about her but she's perfect for what we need."

Gaius sighed nervously and some of the herbs he was grinding fluttered on his breath.

"She won't betray me anyway," Merlin said, "not when I could just betray her in turn."

The brutal logic of blackmail was distasteful yet for all of its distaste, necessary. Gaius looked slightly more confident having been reminded of what they both held over Morgana and nodded. There was a slightly sour taste in Merlin's mouth over how Gaius was so undisturbed by the conniving tactic, but he polished off his lunch and tried to remind himself it was only out of concern for Merlin.

"And you're sure you don't want me to come?" Gaius asked, looking across the table at him.

"Yes," Merlin said.

He didn't say it though out loud, but Merlin honestly didn't know if he had it in him to betray Morgana's secret if this all went south, even if she had betrayed him. In case of this he wanted Gaius well out of the way because if Merlin went down he refused to take Gaius down with him.

* * *

"Oh, Merlin," the head cook said as Merlin entered the kitchen, "Gumpas had orders to serve the Prince today."

Looking around this familiar place with its comforting cooking smells, Merlin wondered how much a revolution would change the kitchen. Would the servants here hate it or would they sympathize with the plight of the magical community?

"I know," Merlin replied to the cook, grabbing an apple from the top of the large fruit baskets in the corner, "I was in the dungeon again last night."

His actions were going to have consequences on people that he wouldn't even know about. There was no end to the ripples he would cause with his one, gigantic splash.

"_Merlin_," the woman scolded. She didn't ask what he had done; he was in the dungeon so often the concept had lost its novelty.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging.

He knew he looked a little bit like a hopeless case; he was all scruffy from a night sleeping on stone and lacked the absolute panic other servants descended to if they got so much as sharply scolded. It wasn't a bad thing though, he knew a lot of the elder servants found his good natured incompetence endearing. He had used to his own advantage more than once.

This was, he supposed, less endearing.

With some effort Merlin hoisted a goofy grin onto his face. He expected it contrasted nicely with the straw in his hair.

The cook smiled chidingly at his seemingly one dimensional friendliness.

Why did this have to end?

"Do you know where the Lady Morgana is? I was ordered to go to her when I was let out," Merlin said.

"I believe she's still in her rooms," the head cook said. She turned and conferred with a baker.

"Yes," she said, turning back to Merlin. "She took ill in the night and so is spending the day resting."

Took ill in the night, Merlin thought as he walked away from the kitchen and up the stairs.

Morgana had dreamed her nightmares again last night, her terrifying, magical nightmares that either came true or bore some other supernatural significance. This may actually help his cause; having cast magic so recently, albeit accidentally, the subject of the law and her own impossible position would be at the front of her mind.

He turned up another corridor and another set of stone steps; ascending the castle stairs was always a bit like climbing a mountain from the inside.

It wasn't just Merlin's gut that was a Gordian knot, but his mind. As he walked he tried to unravel it, get his head into something workable, something he could use to convince Morgana that they were on the same side. He had no idea how Morgana would react, no idea if he could trust her even despite her own magic, but if anyone was going to trust him it was her. And, as he had thought from that cell, he had to try.

Merlin turned down the corridor to Morgana's room. A servant was walking past with a pile of linens and a random, singular shoe tipped on its side on top of the pile. Merlin was feeling very strange. When he knocked on the door he was sharply aware of the feeling of the wood beneath his knuckles and the cloth on his skin. In the moment between knocking on the door and it being opened Merlin was very conscious of the mechanics of breathing.

"Merlin!" said Gwen happily, opening the door.

"Gwen," he said, but he hadn't quite gotten his voice right. He still felt a confused mess inside and his voice had sounded rather strangled because of it.

Her expression became worried.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat, "Gwen."

His voice sounded normal the second time, but by Gwen's continued concern it had apparently only served to emphasize the initial oddness.

"Let him in," Morgana's voice came from behind the door and Gwen opened it fully.

The room had bigger windows then Arthur's, and so was much brighter. Morgana's bed was smaller and there were more small tables, as opposed to Arthur's singular multi-purpose desk. There were a few ceremonial weapons decorating the wall but Uther did not allow Morgana the same freedoms as Arthur. Having proper combat or hunting equipment in her rooms was unladylike, according to him, though from conversations with Gwen Merlin knew there was a sword hidden on the underside of the lady's bed and a bow and quiver in the back of her cupboard. Instead of having weapons or armor filling her room, Morgana had bookcases. They were made of polished wood with lavish carvings and the books were in neat rows; Merlin expected that when Uther saw them he thought they looked very nice and wasn't his ward such a smart little woman. What Uther did not know was that Morgana, without weapons or training, had instead used these very books to turn herself into a force to be reckoned with.

Merlin was counting on this.

Morgana was sitting in a chair positioned in a huge square of sunlight slanting in through the window. In the bright light her long hair was not just black; it had rainbows dancing through it. Her hands were in her lap and her eyes, whilst alert, had lines around them, betraying a sleepless night.

"Merlin, what do we owe the pleasure?" She said as Gwen closed the door behind him.

"Actually, Morgana," Merlin had long since given in to her insistence he dispose of the 'My Lady's', "I was hoping to speak with you…uh…alone?"

He looked around at Gwen. She looked slightly offended.

"I'm sorry, it's not anything to do with you Gwen, it's just…ah…"

"No, no, that's alright," Gwen said, looking to Morgana, who nodded. "I'll just be…in the hall?"

"That's okay Gwen, you gave up your night and morning for me, you may go home," Morgana said kindly. Then, "If Merlin tries anything I'll knock him out and you can clean it up later."

"Okay," Gwen said nervously, as though she wasn't entirely sure that Morgana was joking.

Morgana smiled delicately from her chair and Gwen left, not looking very reassured. When the door closed again Morgana lifted a foot and pushed the chair opposite her to face Merlin, an invitation to sit.

"How may I be of service?" She asked.

Merlin had seen her use servile words before to mislead or unsettle individuals from upper and lower classes alike. He didn't think she was trying to unsettle him, it just seemed that trying to get the advantage in any situation or conversation came as second nature to her now.

He wasn't sure if he should but he didn't want to start out this conversation by rejecting a polite offer, even if he rejected the polite offer politely. Merlin sat down, perching on the edge of the seat.

"I need to talk to you about…" his throat stuck. A delicate issue? A matter of the court? Justice?

But then, Merlin thought, crashed by inevitability, why beat around the bush? They'd get to the forest sooner or later.

Might as well be sooner.

"Magic."

Out of all of the answers he could've given Morgana obviously did not expect this. Like Arthur had the day before Morgana straightened in her chair. She looked alert but not alarmed as they had talked about magic before, Morgana and Gaius and he.

"Magic," she said, then, "yes?"

Merlin thought for a moment. Where he put his hands together he could feel his pulse heater perhaps harder than it should in his fingertips.

"You have magic," he said.

Morgana looked slightly wary but said, "Yes."

Merlin looked at the clean stone floor and his long spider's hands.

His hands had scrubbed horse manure from the bottom of shoes and turned back death itself.

"So," Merlin said, looking up slowly into Morgana's wide eyes, "do I."

Morgana stared at him, for once utterly without words. Her hands moved slowly from her lap to sit along the arms of her chair.

"I'm sorry I did not tell you sooner," Merlin said honestly. "I was afraid."

Morgana swallowed a few times, then said in a voice that was hard because otherwise it would tremble, "Is this some sort of cruel joke?"

Merlin raised a hand and a word was on his lips, then he looked at the window. The sun shone damningly through the wide open window.

"Can we close the blinds?" He asked.

Morgana stared at him like he had lost his mind. Feeling sick with nerves and jittery with a weird, bad kind of excitement, Merlin stood and jerked the curtain across. The yellow light became a brown shadow as Camelot was cut off from their view and they were cut off from Camelot's. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Merlin stepped away from the curtain and table to face Morgana. Her eyes and head had followed his movements unerringly, like some sort of bird of prey. The suspicion and canniness of her regard was mildly unnerving in a situation that was a _lot _unnerving.

Merlin lifted his hand again and crooked it into a spell casting gesture. Through his ready fingers he saw Morgana look at it. He swallowed and wiped his tongue over paper dry lips.

Now or never.

"Leoht," he whispered into his palm.

He felt the familiar tug and tingle as a small golden light appeared above his hand.

Morgana stood violently and sent her chair toppling over backwards with a crash. The noise jarred through Merlin, who was strung out and already terrified. He startled and dropped the spell. The light vanished and because his eyes were no longer adjusted to the room it seemed a lot darker then he thought it should. He looked at Morgana, heartbeat ricocheting through his whole body.

Her eyes were round and owlish and she was looking at Merlin like she had never seen him before. Which, in a way, she hadn't.

"Sorry," she said clumsily, stepping over her chair and turning to stare at it in turn. She looked back up at him. "I…do that again."

Merlin said the spell a little louder this time, "Leoht."

The little light appeared again, quiet and gold.

Merlin could see the golden reflected in Morgana's eyes, knowing the small shimmer was incomparable to the unnatural glowing of his irises. He'd done magic in front of a mirror to see it once and had never done it again. He hadn't known the person he'd seen there.

But Morgana's dumbfounded expression wasn't that of someone who'd suddenly been struck in the face and was still working out the pain. Her expression was of someone who'd suddenly been pulled from a river and had their feet on solid ground.

"_Merlin_," she whispered, like it was a secret.

He just stood there with the light in his hands, waiting, without any clever words or emotional speeches to save him.

Morgana took a step forwards.

"You have magic," she said.

"Yes," Merlin said. Then, compulsively, because he couldn't help it, "don't tell Arthur."

Morgana looked at him, and then something clicked behind her eyes.

"He doesn't know?"

"No one knows. Well, apart from Gaius…and Lancelot…and Kilgarrah…"

She looked confused.

"The great dragon," Merlin explained.

She still looked confused.

"Never mind."

"How long?" Morgana asked hesitantly.

Merlin's arm was getting sore from being held up so long so he played the light into his other hand.

"Since I was born," he said. "All people with magic are born with it; they just learn to access it at different ages."

"I never learned," Morgana said.

"No," Merlin admitted. "Neither did I. But that's just us; we are the exception to the rule."

He waited, watching to see Morgana's reaction to the word 'we.' He'd been wary of disgust or fear, perhaps anger, but didn't expect the joy and relief that suddenly shone from Morgana's face.

"Merlin…I thought I was alone," she said in a constrained voice.

Merlin suddenly knew that he'd done the right thing.

"I know," he replied emphatically, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm really sorry. I just…" he raised his hands helplessly.

"You were afraid I would betray you?" Morgana said softly.

"I don't know. You had magic, you wouldn't have…I guess after a while…"

"You become afraid that anyone would betray you, no matter the circumstances," Morgana said.

She said it quietly and without drama but it still felt like a blow to the chest. Merlin nodded, finding himself unable to speak. That someone had said what he was thinking…that had never happened to him before. Not with his mother or Gaius or anybody. Not ever.

The silence rested for a moment, and then Morgana's eyebrows folded.

"Why are you here?"

"Here?" Merlin said.

"In Camelot," Morgana specified, "this is possibly the worst place for somebody with magic, yet here you are. You're not the idiot everyone believes, so you must have some reason for staying that outweighs the danger of execution."

Morgana's eyes were narrowed. Merlin didn't feel like it was his revelation that made her think he was not a bumbling fool, the shrewdness of her expression made him suspect that she had already known.

"What is it?" She asked when Merlin did not answer.

Merlin scratched the back of his head and gave a lop-sided shrug. A few weeks ago the answer would've been easy and immediate, "Arthur," "Albion," "Destiny." Not anymore, though.

"I would like to return magic to Camelot," Merlin said, slowly and haltingly, honesty born from the lack of rehearsed words. "As peacefully as I can…I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone to do it, but…I don't want anyone with magic to get hurt anymore, either."

Morgana looked at him for a long, long moment.

"You have magic and you're in Camelot and you want to free magic without hurting anyone," she shook her head slightly and startled Merlin with a sudden smile, "You have _magic_ but…that's very…_Merlin_."

It was one of the kindest things he'd ever heard.

"Your dreams are too big for you," Morgana said with another shake of her head, but then she looked up at him and smiled an excited and colluding sort of smile and Merlin knew she was in.


	3. Part III: Conversations

**This chapter was rather difficult to write. I wrote and rewrote so much but I kept getting the tone wrong. Then Australia had a bit of a heatwave and I was reduced to little but a consumer of chilled drinks, then there was a bushfire rather close to where I live, which was rather distracting. **

**But finally I have finished Part III. **

**This has thrown off my whole 'I'll upload of Saturdays,' thing, but that was optimistic anyway. I was remembering writing Until Forever Ends, where I had a lot of chapters already written that I could regularly upload. I'm uploading this as I write it, so it will probably be much less regular. **

**Also, I corrected something in Part II. I said something like, "the druids voices sounded like windows over a lake," which makes absolutely no sense as an analogy. It is now what it was always meant to be.**

**Chairs.**

**Chairs makes so much more sense.**

**Obviously.**

…

**Ah, I kid, I kid. **

**It was supposed to be wind. (So much lamer then 'windows.')  
**

* * *

**Review responses: (from older to newer)**

**First of all, thank you for all of the fantastic reviews. It's great to hear what other people think about the concept of destiny and ethics in the world of Merlin.**

**ProcrastinationIsMyCrime: That would have made life interesting! Thank you.**

**Guest: Thank you. 'Destiny' is a commonly used concept, but whilst it can be interesting it can also send a bit of a bad message to the audience. "If you sit around and do nothing you will miraculously achieve something great." This is, of course, rarely true. I also agree with you on how Merlin constantly protecting Arthur's delusions was odd. It's not like keeping his magic secret, to protect himself. He is keeping truths Arthur has a distinct right to know from him for the sake of Arthur's feelings, which isn't really as kind as it first appears. **

**Seansey: I agree. Merlin often tries to protect Arthur's and his own personal feelings over what is right, which in the end just perpetuates the cycle of them being unhappy.**

**Guest: I know. I love the show but do feel it missed a lot of opportunities. And Arthur also forgets that a King owes loyalty to their people, as well. It should not be a one-way relationship. It's not only wrong, but illogical. How can a kingdom reach its full potential when it bends itself around the whims of a singular person?**

**Paulie: Yes! Right now, as a matter of fact. Apologies for the delay, I hope you find the wait worth it. **

**Guest: I agree with what you said, but I do think Gaius has done some commendable things. Even just in keeping Merlin. He betrayed Uther, his friend, to protect Merlin even though he hardly knew him. That doesn't make his support of Uther's tyrannical reign right of course, but still, it's better than nothing. **

**Guest: I hadn't thought about that, Arthur accusing people of magic in a different kingdom. Come on Arthur, get your act together! I don't think he's an idiot, I think he can be idiotic but he does try to do the right thing sometimes. Course, that doesn't negate when he does the wrong thing, but it does show he has a conscience. **

* * *

**It's getting quite late now and I have much to do tomorrow, like start writing Part IV.**

**So, here is Part III.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**The Man Who Could Never Go Home**

**Part III: Conversations**

Though Arthur would never had admitted it he spent most of the afternoon he'd had Merlin thrown in the dungeon and the following Merlin-less day thinking about Merlin.

Initially he'd been angry at Merlin's inferences that his father was somehow lacking as a King and fed up with the servant's disrespect for the law and blatantly treasonous speech. However, the more time that passed the more Arthur remembered how Merlin had looked at him at the end. He'd turned away from Arthur's barbed voice with his eyes deflected low and angry, falling into the middle distance. Arthur was familiar with that look, that forced subservience. He was painfully familiar. His father had drawn it from him many times in the past when he wanted something from his son and would not hesitate to use his crown to get it. Arthur remembered how much he had hated it and how small he had felt knowing that, in that moment, his father cared nothing for his own will or views and only desired Arthur's acquiescence. Most of the time he would consent. Resentfully and angrily, he would consent. It was his _father_, even if he hated what was being asked of him what else could he do?

But as he would submit to his father's will a small, still defiant part of Arthur would think from a corner of his mind that if his father truly respected Arthur he wouldn't put him in this position. He was Arthur's father so Arthur could do nothing but concede, and it was because of this very fact that he thought his father should not ask him to.

Thinking all of this, knowing all of this, Arthur had then gone and done the exact same thing to Merlin like a hypocrite. He'd used his position as Prince to threaten Merlin into giving in and then when he hadn't submitted Arthur had made true on that threat. Arthur had punished Merlin for doing something he valued him for: speaking against him when he thought Arthur was making a mistake.

Arthur had punished Merlin for having the nerve to be Merlin.

He hadn't even been trying to insult Arthur by saying he was wrong because he was stupid. Merlin had been trying to convince Arthur because he had thought Arthur was being unjust and Arthur's justice mattered to him. He had spoken out of ignorance and friendship, and Arthur had responded by shutting him down and closing him out. He'd done exactly what his father would do. He'd built an unclimbable wall and blamed Merlin for being stuck on the other side.

Merlin might have been wrong but Arthur's response had been worse. At least Merlin's fault lay in something he couldn't help, his lack of education and a misleading willingness to believe the good in everything. At least he didn't just have a short temper and excess of impatience.

By the time Arthur woke the next morning, the morning Merlin would be returning to his duties, Arthur was painfully aware that he could not reconcile his actions with his own sense of honour and fairness. This then lead to the very uncomfortable realization that in order to retain any sense of self-respect Arthur had to talk apologize to Merlin.

Arthur sighed loudly and rolled over, pushing his head into his pillow. Even just thinking about apologizing rankled, it was so much easier to just be contemptuous and uncompromising. That was something that he had learned from the argument with Merlin and his subsequent calling of the guards; by making Merlin unable to keep talking Arthur had _felt _like he had won. For a while there Arthur had been so wrapped up in the knowledge that he was right and he had had won that Merlin's opinion hadn't mattered. Even though it had only been for a moment, he'd thought that if Merlin didn't agree with him that was his problem, not Arthur's, and the consequences were Merlin's to deal with alone.

There was something kind of lonesome and sad about that.

* * *

Merlin walked the familiar path from the kitchens to Arthur's room, wondering with some trepidation what Arthur was going to be like this morning. It would be the first time he'd seen him since their argument and, if he were being honest, he wasn't entirely looking forward to it.

It would have been so easy to catch Gwen when she came to the kitchens for Morgana's breakfast and ask to swap morning duties. Gwen would say yes, either because she had heard about Merlin and Arthur's recent fall out or because she would like an excuse to see Arthur. Arthur would also probably prefer to see Gwen's friendly face upon waking, as opposed to Merlin's face, even though it would also be friendly.

Also, this would give Merlin a chance to see Morgana.

He had stayed in Morgana's chambers for over an hour the night before. They had talked about magic and Camelot and then had even tried a few small spells together. Though Morgana had jammed her door shut with a chair and stuffed a putrid yellow ceremonial dress beneath the door they had both still been too anxious to do much more then make a few lights.

Though despite this it had still been magnificent.

Merlin had barely been able to sleep that night for excitement. All he could think about was how he had told Morgana he had magic and she had _accepted_ it. She hadn't even blamed him for not telling her sooner because she understood The Fear.

After so long starving for some form of understanding or even, Merlin thought a little ashamedly, some form of acknowledgement, he now wanted nothing more than to go and see Morgana and talk to her more about magic and the future and everything.

But he couldn't.

He had to serve Arthur.

Merlin felt a little guilty about wanting to see Morgana rather than Arthur, though he knew rationally that he shouldn't. If this had nothing to do with magic there wouldn't be a problem. But it did, so it was.

Despite knowing magic wasn't evil Merlin had to be careful not to let the King's hate speech and society's prejudice get to him. It frightened him sometimes, how pervasive it all was. Merlin had once been peeling his way through a giant bowl of potatoes for a feast and one of the cooks had told a story about a brave Prince rescuing a helpless damsel from an evil sorcerer. Merlin had immediately envisaged Arthur as the Prince, Gwen as the damsel and himself as the sorcerer. He'd thought himself a free thinker and above such things as stereotypes, yet he hadn't thought twice before accepting how the story, like every other story, had made the woman weak and needy and the sorcerer cruel and malicious.

Also, Merlin reminded himself as he turned the corner down Arthur's hallway, he'd accepted without question the righteousness and kindness of the fictional Prince. He should have known better. After seeing what Uther had done and what people had let him do Merlin should never forget that nothing in Camelot was above question.

Merlin got to Arthur's door and paused for a moment, giving himself a moment to get into the right headspace. He wanted to lean his forehead against the cool wood but the large breakfast platter was in the way.

He would not let Arthur's temper get to him. He would carry Morgana's acceptance inside him all day to protect against Arthur's disregard. Though a niggling little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that him that Morgana's knowledge of his magic didn't actually make Arthur's ignorance any less.

Merlin bent down and leaned on the door handle with his left elbow and bumped the door open with his hip. Then, inhaling quietly through his teeth, he stepped into the room.

* * *

Arthur heard the door opening and turned from the view of Camelot. Merlin pushed the door shut behind him with the heel of his right foot, carefully keeping the platter of Arthur's breakfast level.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur said in what he thought was a genial sort of voice, but Merlin's eyes jerked up to meet his and before his face could change Arthur saw the apprehension there.

It startled him a little bit and made him unsure of how to proceed.

"Morning Arthur," Merlin said and Arthur found him analyzing his tone of voice.

It was fine, much more genial then Arthur's attempt, but something was still wrong. There weren't enough words.

Merlin crossed the room looking between the platter and Arthur's cluttered desk and, once, a glancing up at Arthur. There was a smile on Merlin's mouth but not in his eyes.

"Ah…" Arthur said.

"I'll put this down on top of the important royal records, shall I?" Merlin said in a soft attempt at normalcy.

"Merlin," Arthur said, knowing that if he didn't do this now he never would, "I need to talk to you."

He seemed destined to be Merlin's echo.

Putting the platter down with paper crinkling beneath it Merlin looked up at Arthur.

"I need to apologize about how I acted the other day," he said.

Straightening slowly, Merlin did not look away from him.

"It was not fair sending you to the dungeons because you said something I did not like," Arthur stated.

Merlin frowned a little, a thin line appearing on his forehead.

"So…I'm sorry," Arthur said.

He felt very tight in the chest and he had to make an effort to keep his breathing smooth and soundless.

Looking surprised, it took Merlin a moment to say, "Arthur…I…"

He closed his mouth and swallowed with his eyes still on Arthur. Clearing his throat Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and looked around the room. There was something intense burning in Merlin's eyes and Arthur didn't know what it was or what to do with it.

"That means a lot to me, Arthur," Merlin said. He may have picked up on Arthur's awkwardness because his voice was quite calm.

When Arthur looked back at him he saw that Merlin was rubbing one of his palms anxiously. It was reassuring, knowing that they were both lost here.

"Don't mention it," Arthur said off-handedly, though he meant it quite literally.

"I mean I…" Merlin began.

"Seriously," Arthur said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, "You don't have to mention it."

"But…uh…did you? I mean, did you think about what I had said?"

Merlin sounded so sure that what he said was going to trigger Arthur to yell for the guards again that Arthur felt guilty about his overreaction all over again.

"I did," he said, then moved to sit down.

Merlin followed him to his breakfast table then sat down very slowly, as though he spent the whole movement waiting for Arthur to tell him to stop.

"And?" Merlin asked as Arthur picked up the platter and used it to sweep an armful of documents off his desk.

Arthur sighed and returned the platter to its place in front of him.

"I don't like executions," Arthur admitted. "I hate them, actually. But Merlin…they are necessary. We don't have the resources to keep every criminal in Camelot locked up alive somewhere. Especially criminals with magic, because they are so much more dangerous and cannot ever be completely disarmed."

"I know," Merlin said, jiggling one foot beneath the desk. "But what about magic, Arthur? Did you think about what I said about that?"

"Yes," Arthur said, looking at his breakfast but making no further move to eat. "It's hard for you, Merlin, you didn't grow up in Camelot. Maybe…maybe magic in Ealdor isn't bad…but in Camelot all I have ever seen of it is evil. Unnatural diseases that take out whole villages in a day, monsters that rampage through the country for weeks before we can kill them, sorcerers that try to overthrow Camelot because all they want is power…"

Merlin winced slightly.

"If sorcerers were good people, why wouldn't they just go somewhere else? Somewhere they didn't have to kill people?" Arthur asked.

Merlin looked away from Arthur out the window. There was light on his face and for a moment he seemed very far away. Arthur felt a strange strike of panic, like he had suddenly found himself entirely on his own.

"Maybe Camelot is their home," Merlin said.

He looked back at Arthur, returning to himself, but the memory of the moment lingered.

"Merlin," Arthur said, looking closely at his friend. "Is there something you are not telling me?"

Merlin looked at him for a long, long time, then the corner of his mouth quirked as though he'd heard a joke Arthur had missed. Somehow, despite the humour, it looked sad.

"What about the druids?" Merlin said instead of answering.

"I thought about that and I do think you had a point," Arthur said, though he was frowning at Merlin's evasion. "From what I have seen they have always been peaceful. Maybe they cannot be corrupted by magic somehow."

Merlin frowned in a wry sort of way.

"So…based on that, do you think that there's a chance Ereesa's execution wasn't right?" He asked slowly, watching for Arthur's reaction.

"Ereesa?"

"The woman who was executed the other week, the druid woman."

Arthur remembered.

"Oh," he said. He looked down at the table. He hadn't known her name.

"I didn't know her name either, Arthur," Merlin said, as though Arthur's thoughts had been written on his forehead. "Somebody told me."

"Who?" Arthur asked, curious.

Merlin gave another smile of sideward sadness, "I have my sources."

Sometimes getting information from Merlin was like getting blood for a stone. Arthur didn't push it.

"I don't know if it was right," he said, responding the earlier question. "I don't know, Merlin."

Merlin bobbed his head as though that were all he had expected Arthur to say, but when he leaned forward and helped himself to one of Arthur's apples Arthur heard him murmur,

"That's not a no."

* * *

When Merlin left Arthur's chambers to take his pile of dirty dishes back to the kitchen he had a lot to think about. That had gone better than he had hoped. Yes, Arthur had said he thought magic was evil because he had only ever seen it used for evil in Camelot, but little had he known that he had said this to the one person in Camelot who was the most perfectly equipped to show him otherwise.

And he had _asked _Merlin. Arthur hadn't known it, but he had asked Merlin The Question, The Question About His Secret.

_Is there something you're not telling me?_

Merlin wished he'd had the courage to answer Arthur then and there.

_Yes, Arthur. I have been by your side saving your life with magic all this time and I think I would like to change the world with you._

He hadn't the courage though.

_Nothing's changed. I'm still Merlin._

_Please forgive me._

It was a colossal thing, this fear. It was like a huge storm cloud over a mountain, a mountain stacked atop another mountain. It was so great it rivalled Merlin's faith in Arthur, though it did nothing to rival his loyalty.

No, this was not the sort of foe that could be faced on a whim. It was either faced because there was no other choice, or it was carefully, hesitantly, bravely approached from a long distance away, each step that was taken ready to be taken back.

Merlin was on his way forward. He was still far enough away Arthur didn't yet know he was coming.

Arriving at the kitchens Merlin ducked through the door when a waiter opened it to exit. The morning bustle had died down though there were still multiple people on duty. Merlin moved to the washing bucket and gave the dirty plates and cutlery to a scullery servant. Normally he would now go back to Arthur's room to change his sheets and clean his floors. He made a habit of doing this without magic to lessen the chance, however remote, that somebody might find something odd enough with how long it took Merlin to complete his servant duties to do a little investigating. However, today Merlin was going to let himself go late and do it all with a snap of magic. This freed up a few morning hours that he planned to use very productively.

* * *

"Hi Gwen," Merlin jogged over to his fellow servant.

"Oh," Gwen said, peering around a large stack of towels. "Hello Merlin."

Wordlessly Merlin reached out and carefully took the top half of the stack so that Gwen could see without needing to tilt her head at right angle.

"Oh," she said again. "Thanks."

Gwen stepped hesitantly off in the direction she had been going before Merlin had come over, obviously wanting to talk to him but being quite busy. Obligingly Merlin fell into step beside her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday," Merlin said, straightening his grip on the towels by bracing them against his chin. "It was just…you know…confidential…court…stuff…"

"That's alright," Gwen said, eyes fluttering down, "I understand.

For a moment Merlin frowned, then when Gwen looked back up he joked, "Would it be better if I did that…" Merlin waved one hand beneath the towels and reached futilely towards his face. "…nose-tap thing people do when they're talking about stuff that's all hush-hush in-the-know code-winks?"

Gwen glanced up and grinned a little.

"It's okay Merlin," she said, "I understand court confidentiality. It's not your fault."

"Good, um, because I need to talk to Morgana again…" Merlin looked appropriately sheepish. Thankfully this time Gwen look understanding instead of offended.

"It's for Arthur but it's…not _for _him, I suppose, because of him?" Merlin rambled, giving himself enough breathing room that if Gwen talked to Arthur and realized he hadn't been sending Merlin to talk to Morgana it would not seem suspicious. She'd think Merlin had a private Arthur-based conundrum that only Morgana could fix.

Which, in a way, he did.

Technically he wasn't lying. He was toeing the line, arms up for balance. He hated it because he knew that when he finally revealed his secret it would be times like this that people would look back on and hate him for.

"Yeah, okay," Gwen said. She looked concerned for Arthur, more concerned than just a casual acquaintance would be, "she's on the eastern garden balcony. Is something the matter Merlin? Is everything alright?"

_Is everything alright?_

_Is there something you're not telling me?_

Guilt squirmed in Merlin's stomach, but he threw a reassuring smile on his face.

"It will be," he said.

_I hope._

* * *

The glass rattled in its white frame as Merlin gently tapped it with his knuckles. He stopped fairly quickly, worried the window would shake right out of the doors, but Morgana had heard him by then and looked around. She was sitting in a delicate white chair on the balcony, which was a stone so white it was quite iridescent in the sunlight. Morgana's face was carefully blank until she recognized Merlin. She didn't smile but her face did lose its carefully neutrality as she stood and turned away from her view of the gardens. Merlin held the door open for her and she stepped through.

"Hello Merlin," she said, turning and pulling the curtains closed. Merlin found a tea set on a table near the window that had evidently been used and carefully made note to head for it should somebody walk in the door. Both of their deceptive habits matched each other well.

"What can I help you with?" She asked, obviously realizing that Merlin was hardly likely to want to practice magic tricks during the middle of the day.

"I was thinking you might like to meet some druids?" Merlin said hopefully.

Morgana looked politely surprised.

"I mean, I know I just told you about my magic yesterday, but I thought…well, I've had some ideas about the whole returning magic to Camelot thing and I thought there's no time like the present," Merlin said, voice wavering between enthusiasm and hesitancy.

"Are they safe?" She asked, moving further into the room.

"Yeah," Merlin said, slightly confused. Morgana had made an account of the virtues of druids before when arguing with her father and Arthur. "They won't attack us or anything, they're very peaceful people."

"No, I mean my secret, our magic. Are they safe? Can they be trusted?" She tossed her head back. She looked haughty but Merlin guessed it was only skin deep.

"Yes," he said in a firm voice, "they've known about my magic ever since I arrived and have never once betrayed me."

"But what about me? I am a Pendragon in all but blood."

"They will not hold that against you. They care about life, all life. If you don't mean them harm they won't mean you harm."

"Intentions and perceived intentions aren't always the same in Camelot," Morgana said. "In fact, they rarely are."

"I won't make you go, I understand. But I do think you can trust them," Merlin smiled sadly. "Actually, they kind of need me…in a way. Even if they didn't like you it wouldn't matter, they can't harm you because you are my friend."

He didn't think it was presumptuous saying they were friends and Morgana did not protest. Instead she looked interested.

"What do you mean they kind of need you?" She asked.

"It's complicated. Maybe I can tell you…on the way to the druids?"

Morgana smiled though still seemed conflicted. Merlin watched her thoughts on her face. After a moment curiosity and hope won over fear and doubt.

"Okay. I have dinner with my father tonight, but maybe after that? Would they object to us coming at night? Do we need to send a note or be offered invitation?"

Morgana thought about this a lot more the Merlin did. He either came when he was called or just showed up at the druid camps when he needed help; he'd never thought to apply any politics from Camelot about invitation or greeting.

"I don't think so, the other week a druid turned up on a hunt and lead me to their camp because they had to talk to me," Merlin said. Though he was pondering the issue he didn't miss the way Morgana's gaze grew keener as she learned he was the sort of person druids went out of their way to talk to. "I have gone to their camps before and they have never objected. They understand it's difficult for me in Camelot. Anyway after what we talked last time I think they would be interested in another visit, no matter the time."

Merlin wondered what Morgana was making of all of this. He knew that the emotions he saw on her face were only those she let him see, so really they weren't emotions at all.

Morgana was a hidden creature.

"Tonight," she said slowly, watching him. "Not straight after dinner, a few hours later when everybody is sleeping. I will come to the Physician's quarters; I can claim I couldn't sleep and had run out of my medication. I'll dispose of that when I return to my rooms now, just in case. If we are caught we can say I was sleepwalking. My nightmares are no secret. I will say you came to find me."

"Okay," Merlin said. He was impressed by how thorough Morgana was. Gaius had thought she was going to be a liability but Merlin had thought she would be an asset.

She may be a hidden creature but then so was Merlin. So was, in a way, everyone.

Merlin nodded to Morgana.

"I'll be ready."

* * *

Sneaking out of the citadel with the King's ward was surprisingly easy. So easy in fact that Merlin wondered if he should perhaps be trying to find some casual and non-suspicious way to alert Arthur to the fact that his guards were either alcoholic, suffered chronic fatigue or were alcoholics who suffered chronic fatigue.

Morgana was surprisingly well-practiced at this. Merlin wondered why she seemed so familiar with sneaking in and out of Camelot but thought it would be rude to ask.

They had agreed in voices hushed, whispers in time with Gaius' snores, not to take horses. They were noisier, bigger and so much harder to explain. It might've been quicker but they added so much more risk it just wasn't worth it. Merlin preferred a long walk in the dark to a short walk to the pyre. The dark had never hurt him. Things in the dark, maybe, but never the dark.

They walked silently for the first hour, but when they got under the cover of trees they both pushed the hoods back from their heads and looked around. The air was crisp and cold as the night sky above them on this cloudless night. Everything was blue in this light.

"Is there a path?" Morgana asked. She kept her voice quiet from instinct, though there was nobody around but Merlin.

"Not really. They change camps. They're in the area at the moment, but I might have to feel it out with my magic," Merlin said back, voice a little hoarse as he both strained to be heard and strained to be silent.

Morgana nodded. She had her back to the moon so Merlin couldn't quite see her eyes.

He led the way through the trees.

"You said earlier that they need you? That it's," Morgana paused, possibly for effect, "complicated?"

"It is," Merlin said.

The forest was making normal, soft forest noises but he couldn't help but fear that every snap or rustle was a knight, a guard, someone coming to get him. The light was surreal; it was like he wasn't really awake.

Morgana was silently waiting for him to continue. He wondered how to tell his story.

"Magic has to have balance," Merlin began, looking ahead and not sideward to Morgana. "Life and death, give and take. You can't destroy magic. You can kill people with magic, but you cannot kill magic."

Morgana sucked in a quiet breath on 'kill' but Merlin was so used to the concept of his own likely murder that the words didn't hurt him, or if they did he was used to the pain.

"During the purge, when the King was executing all of the sorcerers and sorceresses and having the dragons and unicorns wiped out and destroying all of the magical artifices it unleashed a great amount of magic in the world. It was loose and just…out there…but magic doesn't like to be loose and out there, it wants to be attached to something."

Merlin pushed a branch away from his face, it was weeping sap and his hand came away sticky. He wiped his hand on his cloak.

"This is where I come in," he tried to say it lightly but saw Morgana glance at him. She was deducing what he was going to say before he had a chance to say it.

"I am where the magic went. In some other time I probably would've been a run of the mill sorcerer, born with a little magic but nothing amazing. But I was born during the Purge, and though a lot of people were for some reason all of the magic…came to me…I don't know why it didn't distribute equally," Merlin was now talking almost to himself. "It would've made more sense. I wasn't even born in Camelot…" he realized what he was doing and closed his mouth on the words.

For a moment the only noise was the wind in the tree branches above them and their footfalls on dirt and leaves beneath.

"Are you powerful?" Morgana asked, her bluntness softened by her kindly tone.

"Yeah," Merlin said. He didn't clarify that he was the most powerful warlock ever born, that might sound like boasting.

Or worse, it might frighten Morgana.

Merlin did not know if he could stand it if people were frightened of him. He didn't know what he would do.

"Okay," Morgana said, as though agreeing on something that was merely mildly interesting, like an opinion on some particularly ugly ceremonial swords. Oddly, but intuitively, Merlin felt that this was Morgana's way of showing him a kindness.

"Anyway," he continued, "the druids have thought, for quite a while, that I'm the one who's going to return magic to Camelot. That's why they 'need' me…though I guess 'need' is a strong word. They want me as an ally. They _have_ me as an ally. That's why you're safe; they won't hurt you because it would mean alienating me."

Merlin looked over. Morgana was nodding to what he had said.

"Okay," she said again. "That makes a lot of sense. Thank you."

She fell quiet and Merlin let her think. An owl hooted somewhere off to Merlin's right, then a few minutes later again far to his left. Insects winged invisibly nearby. Merlin heard a short, guttural noise that startled him for a moment before he identified it as the lowing of a distant deer.

"The druids must be nearby by now," Merlin said quietly. The deer had made him think about how one would never let knights get as close as they were, but that druids probably would not frighten the woodland wildlife. They were too much a part of this world, they were too accepting of the wild magic to be a threat.

He and Morgana had been walking long enough that the druids were surely aware of them. Merlin stopped and Morgana followed suit. They both looked around but the shadows were unrevealing.

"Should we-" Morgana began but Merlin moved his head sharply. He was going to 'sh' her but the movement was enough and she stopped talking.

"Emrys," a druid Merlin did not recognize stepped out of the darkness behind them. Merlin turned but Morgana whipped around.

"Oh yeah, they also call me Emrys," Merlin added as an aside to Morgana, trying to sound humorous to help her be less afraid. He then raised his voice, "Were you eavesdropping?"

He wasn't angry, more interested that somebody might actually find what he said worth eavesdropping on.

"You needed to speak and Morgana needed to listen," the druid said, reminding Merlin of Kilgarrah's tendency to be non-committal and cryptic.

Merlin saw that it was a man as the druid stepped closer, he had a light voice.

"You know my name," Morgana said, sounding distrustful.

"At least they got it right," Merlin said. "We seek audience with the druids of these woods."

The man nodded, unsurprised, having heard their conversation.

"Follow me," was all he said.

* * *

The druid council is seated in the same place as last time, though the fire was lower and easier to see over. The same druids were there as well, Felin, Dura, Terrisa, Aesin, Golden-tree and Hissa. Merlin had only remembered Felin and Golden-tree's names, though tried to commit the others to memory as they introduced themselves to Morgana. After the introduction the council members shifted closer to let Morgana and Merlin sit in their circle. Merlin guessed that this was a privilege and nodded respectfully to them each in turn.

"Morgana," Felin said. He faced her and his long plait, which had been resting on his shoulder, fell down his back.

Morgana looked across to him, letting her gaze acknowledge that he had spoken.

"The Pendragon, the Dreaming Lady," Felin said, the tails of his words getting lost in the soft cracking of the fire.

Morgana raised her chin slightly and the firelight made the angles of her face look severe. She looked like a piece of strange art.

"We mean you no harm," Golden-tree said. The bird on her shoulder that had been asleep when Merlin had first seen her was now awake. It was a blackbird and had bright eyes.

"And I mean you no harm," Morgana replied, "so long as you do not betray the secret of my magic to the King of Camelot."

The druids seemed to expect and accept her distrust easily.

"Why did you desire to come here? Emrys?" Golden-tree asked, looking away from Morgana to Merlin.

"Well," Merlin glanced at Morgana, "two reasons. I wanted to introduce Morgana to you and I wanted to talk about returning magic to Camelot. I have an idea that I would like to tell you about it."

At these words a few druids from around the camp beyond the firelight murmured to each other words Merlin couldn't quite make out.

The old druid woman, Dura, narrowed her eyes at Merlin. He didn't know why and it made him nervous.

Morgana looked around the circle with an expression that dared the druids to say the introduction wasn't over. Again, the druids did not seem to mind, but Merlin wished she would hide her nerves in a less overtly hostile manner. It worked with Uther, but was a bit much for people who wanted to help her.

"You seemed hesitant when we last discussed the matter of returning magic to Camelot," Felin said. "May I ask what changed your mind?"

Merlin nodded and looked at the ground.

"Largely it was what you said. I've been thinking about it and this morning…I talked to Prince Arthur…"

Morgana looked around at Merlin, forgetting to look imperious in her surprise.

"And…well, when I was thinking about how we would return magic to Camelot I thought…the best way to do it peacefully would be with the Prince's help. I talked to him a few times and he was…difficult…but then this morning he was…I think there's a chance."

The druids were silent. They passed looks around the circle until all eyes returned to Merlin.

"Merlin, are you thinking about _telling Arthur_?" Morgana was looking at him in shock.

Merlin didn't think he would be able to keep his voice steady so he just swallowed and nodded mutely in response.

"Arthur, the Prince? Arthur Pendragon? That Arthur?" Morgana said.

Merlin went to speak; words failed him, and nodded again.

"You are of the opinion that the Prince would aid the magical community?" Felin said, frowning.

"I think he might," Merlin said quietly, finding it easier to look slightly to the right of the fire then at anybody, "if given the chance. He has in the past."

"In secret," the druid man, Aesin, said. His voice curled with something unpleasant. "When he thinks he can 'get away with it,' as it were. What makes you think he will openly declare his loyalties to the magical community when it means openly declaring them against his father?"

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," Merlin said, finding the courage to look this druid in the eye. "But what is the alternative? Not giving him a chance and waste the opportunity that he _might _side with us?"

"It's a risk," Aesin said. His hair was a brown that looked coppery in the firelight. Merlin knew his severe looking face would be less so out of the firelight.

"He won't hurt anybody. I won't let him," Merlin said.

The druids would think Merlin would stop Arthur from hurting somebody innocent for the sake of the innocent person, and whilst this may be true, it was not all of the truth. He would also be doing it for Arthur.

Aesin still looked doubtful.

"If Arthur sided with us reintroducing magic would be so much easier and safer. We could do it slowly, without having to fear of people being executed as we took the time to get people used to the idea. It would be wrong to deny him the chance to do the right thing," Merlin said in an immovable voice. "It's his choice."

To contradict Merlin now would be to contradict what they had said to convince him change was necessary. To say that Arthur should not be allowed to choose would be to pull the foundations underneath why the druids thought destiny was a matter of choice.

It was, perhaps, an unforgiving and hard tactic, the sort Merlin was not entirely comfortable with using, but it was effective. Though she still looked doubtful over the idea of Merlin revealing his magic to Arthur Morgana also looked at Merlin appraisingly. He suspected she liked what he had done. She probably thought it showed spine.

"It is your secret and your friendship," Felin said, sounding regretful but resolute, "it is your choice to make."

Yes, Merlin thought. It is.


	4. Part IV: Ultimatum

**Wow, this chapter got long.**

**Sorry for wait, hopefully the chapter's length helps a little. There was just so much I wanted to include before the specific point I wanted to end on. **

**Sometimes I find writing this story a little odd because I have gone over it all so much in my head it already feels like it's been written. Does that make sense? Possibly. Possibly not. **

**Hope you are all well.**

* * *

**Review responses (oldest to newest) **

**(Couple of guest reviews, I'll say Guest 1, 2, 3 etc for differentiating purposes.)**

**ProcrastinationIsMyCrime: Friendly Morgana makes an appearance every now and then, but I'm having a lot of fun writing BAMF!Morgana. Summer almost got cool, but then it got hot again. Did a bit of a 'Psyche!' to all of us hopeful Aussies. **

**Guest 1: Arthur can certainly be idiotic and arrogant, but I believe there is a lot of good in him as well. Course, the definition between being 'idiotic' and 'an idiot' isn't much, but it's something. **

**Guest 2: Keep in mind that the last time Merlin was in the druid camp he was being questioned about his involvement of the death of one of the druids. He admitted to making the wrong choice in that situation. He is very human, and so just as capable of making bad decisions of Uther, and the laws in Camelot based on Uther's bad decisions are what created this whole mess.**

**Guest 3: This story began with a woman dying because Merlin made the wrong decision. After realizing what he had done, Merlin realized that even when he had the best of intentions he did the wrong thing. Hence the Merlin of this story is living painfully aware of the consequences of his own fallibility, so it makes sense that he would seek as much advise as possible on actions that will have repercussions on all of Camelot. In saying that, he didn't ask for the druids permission. He was ready to listen to their advice, and if they had voiced a strong argument against his choice it would've been in character for him to listen, but he was telling them about his decision, not asking. And it is a lot easier for Arthur to tell himself Merlin is ignorant then to confront the uncomfortable truths he is saying. **

**Resh Prak: Thanks. I agree that the seasons missed a lot of opportunity. There could have been so many different 'stages,' Merlin's secret, then Merlin telling Arthur, them finding a way to be friends again then there adventures with Arthur knowing about his magic! It seems very odd that so much potential was wasted. In regards to your question about Merlin being OOC, Guest 3 asked a similar question. My response is above. However, in summary what I said was that this story started with a very dramatic event and the Merlin in this story is still living with the knowledge of that event. It would have been more out of character for Merlin to go untouched by the realization that he wrongly let a woman die then for him to feature some behavioral changes. One such change that I felt was realistic was that he would question himself a lot more, and with him making a huge choice to defy destiny after making the wrong choice to not save the druid woman he would understandably be second and triple guessing all of his decisions. **

**Guest 4: Thank you. I think one of Merlin's greatest gifts is not so much his power, but his reasoning and understanding of power. Of course his magic gave him the ability to protect Arthur, which will be important once Arthur learns about Merlin's magic, but his choice, not his ability, is the significant thing. I agree that Arthur's treatment of Merlin was irritating. They were supposed to have this incredible friendship, but Arthur kept up a tirade of petty cruelties, which is hardly friendship at all. One of Arthur's main problems is that he doesn't **_**think**_**. Learning about Merlin's magic will no doubt be a shock, but at the very least it will shock him into **_**thinking.**_

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**And now, onto part IV.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**The Man Who Could Never Go Home**

**Part IV: Ultimatum **

"I really don't think you should be doing this," Gaius said, standing between Merlin and the front door of their quarters.

"I know," Merlin replied. He'd started out sympathetic with Gaius' worries, but now his tolerance was wearing thin. The idea of finally telling Arthur his secret was frightening enough for him without Gaius' added barrage of anxiety. "I heard you the fifty second time."

"But…timing Merlin, please just wait for better timing. Wait until…until a good druid save a knights life again…or when Arthur sees another unicorn or magical cure…just wait!"

Gaius had actually raised his arms to bar Merlin's way. Merlin leaned back on his heels. He was hardly going to push past Gaius, especially when he was just trying to help, albeit in an annoying fashion.

"People are dying _now, _Gaius, I don't have the luxury of waiting. If I keep delaying telling Arthur I'll never tell him," Merlin said. "And anyway, I told you about the conversation I had with him yesterday. He was _listening_ to me. Now _is _my best chance."

"He threw you in the dungeons!" Gaius cried.

"Five days ago!" Merlin insisted, though he realized that distinction may not mean much to Gaius. Gaius opened his mouth to say something and Merlin raised his hands in truce, interrupting the conversations descent into a shouting match.

"Look, look, I'm not even planning to tell him today. I'm going to ask him to take me hunting, just me, and then tell him in the forest. We won't even be able to go out today; he's got that court thing."

Gaius still looked very anxious and was wringing his hands but he didn't argue.

"Trust me Gaius," Merlin said reassuring, stepping forward and putting his hand on Gaius' shoulder, "I have no interest in dying anytime soon."

Gaius sighed. The sigh was bumpy and short with breathless fear.

"And In the interests of not dying," Merlin continued, smiling reassuringly, "I should probably go. Arthur's always in a better mood when his breakfast is on time, and I want him in as good a mood as he can be."

"Okay," Gaius said with a small, helpless shrug. "I'll spend the morning making headache cures."

Today was one of the days Gaius usually went to the lower town market for supplies, but Merlin knew Gaius' wanted to be close by.

Just in case.

"Thank you," Merlin said.

Gaius stepped away from the door.

"That's alright, my boy."

* * *

Something thumped hard against Arthur's door. There was a muffled voice then another bump. Another. Then a metallic crash and an outbreak of furious muttering.

Arthur opened his eyes.

He was lying on his stomach with his arms shoved beneath his pillow. He'd been dreaming about Gwen, though as he woke the details of the dream became fuzzy. There'd been a meadow...the trees had been purple…or had that been the mountains?

The door handle scraped and Merlin entered the room, his steps were short and his breath sounded impatient. As well as the platter in his hands he had lumps of bed sheets tucked beneath both arms. Arthur rolled onto his back nonchalantly and watched Merlin carrying his breakfast across the room. The goblet was tipped on its side and red wine dripped from the platter, leaving a trail of red dots on the stone floor.

"The door giving you trouble?" Arthur asked with a casual sort of innocence.

"The door is fine, it's the five hundred things I have to carry that are the problem," Merlin said, shoving Arthur's breakfast from his arms onto the table and accidentally dropping one of the carefully folded sheets onto the floor.

"If you didn't try to carry everything at once-" Arthur began, enjoying ribbing Merlin.

"Then I'd have to go for the sheets later," Merlin said, as though this were the most foolish wastage of time conceivable.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

Life was finally returning to normal. Merlin seemed to have gleaned some unfathomable satisfaction from their discussion over yesterday's breakfast and had since been behaving in his usual, jovial way. Maybe it was because Arthur had forced himself to listen to Merlin for once. He hadn't agreed with much of what Merlin had said, but it seemed that the act of listening had been enough. Arthur made a mental note to remember that.

"You always complain about your food being cold but then when I do actually bring it up on time you just lie in bed for half an hour," Merlin said. He'd set up Arthur's breakfast and had since taken up look at Arthur reproachfully.

"You could always give me breakfast in bed," Arthur said lazily.

"I could," Merlin said, narrowing his eyes, "though it would be a shame if I accidentally spilt hot coffee on your lap."

Arthur sat up.

"You wouldn't dare," he said back.

"Oh, _I _wouldn't dare," now that Arthur was sitting up Merlin moved to open the curtains. "The laws of physics, on the other hand…"

Arthur grumbled a loud, wordless noise of protest and threw back the covers. Standing he arched his back, muscles stretching and various bones clicking into place. Then with a yawn he padded barefoot to his table and sat down.

Behind him Merlin proceeded along the wall pulling back the deep red curtains. Sunlight flooded in and the room woke up.

"When do you next have a few hours free?" Merlin asked from the far end of the room.

"Ah," Arthur scrubbed his hair with one hand as his brain groaned into gear. "Don't know. Why?"

"I was thinking," Merlin's voice was suspiciously casual, "maybe you and I could go hunting sometime?"

"What?" Arthur said, lowering the roll he'd been about to bite from his face. He looked around at Merlin.

Merlin walked back up the room and passed Arthur, picking up the new bed sheets as he did.

"Well, I was thinking you and I could go out hunting. You know…fresh air and stuff."

"Merlin, you have never wanted to hunting once in your life. Ever."

"Well we don't have to actually catch anything, just…go out into the forest," Merlin said, yanking the bedcovers off Arthur's bed.

"But…why?" Arthur asked.

"You haven't been out of the castle in a while, it would be nice," Merlin shrugged innocently.

"Uh-huh," Arthur said, watching Merlin.

It probably would be nice, actually, just him and Merlin. Hunts were a lot of fun and Arthur didn't mind going on the occasional patrol but he was always surrounded by his knights and soldiers then. It was the same in the castle. Even when nobody was watching him he was being noticed. He was always The Prince, never Arthur. As though being Arthur wasn't enough.

Not with Merlin though. Merlin accepted Arthur for who he was, not what he was. Arthur kept forgetting how big a difference that made.

Merlin was folding the sheets in his own, unique way that resembled actual folding very little. He put the small mounds of cloth at the foot of the bed with a self-satisfied expression.

"Okay," Arthur said.

Merlin looked up and blinked in the sunlight.

"Yes? We'll go?"

"Yes," Arthur bit into his roll then shoveled some cooked egg into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and spoke again. "I'm busy today and tomorrow, but the next day I think I can put together an hour or two."

"Good, good," Merlin said. He ground his palms against each other without seeming to realize what he was doing, eyes unfocusing from Arthur and getting lost somewhere in the middle distance.

"Now that's sorted, I need my ceremonial robes," Arthur gestured with a fork at his wardrobe. "The red ones, not the blue ones. I don't want to look ridiculous."

"Fighting a losing battle there, your most royal of highnesses," Merlin quipped, striding across to the indicated wardrobe.

"I'll put you in the ceremonial servant's uniform," Arthur threatened. "Don't think I won't!"

Merlin gave Arthur a peeved look at the mention of the robes he detested so much.

Arthur grinned.

* * *

The corridors around the Courtroom were lavish and overly grand; blood red carpet and polished walls, tapestries worth more gold then some villages and the likenesses of nobility long since past carved from stone and lining the hallway. Having refused adamantly, possibly excessively, to wear the ceremonial servants robes Merlin looked distinctly out of place.

Gwen looked much less out of place then he; she wore a neat blue dress and her curly hair was brushed back from her face. However Merlin could see creases on the sleeves of her dress from where she would roll the sleeves back to scrub floors.

They had both been serving in the Courtroom and, having finished first, Gwen was waiting outside for him. At one point as they had passed each other whilst doing their duties Merlin had asked her to wait for him outside. Their shifts ended at the same time, though Merlin did seem to perpetually trail five minutes behind schedule, and he wanted to talk to Gwen afterwards. Though he was going to see Morgana after his Courtroom duties he already knew where she was, and wasn't intending to ask Gwen about her. Almost all of the conversations Merlin had been having recently were heavy or significant or laden with double meaning. It was exhausting and he was beginning to feel the strain, especially after talking to Arthur that morning.

Gwen had a small lunch break after her Courtroom duties and Merlin knew she habitually spent this in the kitchens talking to her other servant friends whilst they were still on duty. From the Courtroom the walk to Morgana's room and the kitchen's was the same for a few minutes, giving them a chance to catch up before going their separate ways.

"Hi Merlin," Gwen said pleasantly and they fell into step together, walking side by side down the hallway of stone heads.

"I'm tempted to put my neckerchief of one of them and see what people do," Merlin whispered conspiratorially to Gwen as they passed a particularly grumpy looking piece. Gwen laughed quietly.

"Everyone would know it was you. You're the only one who wears those things."

"Yeah, that or because as soon as Arthur heard about it he would be all," Merlin raised his fists and whispered a yell of, "_MERLIN_!"

Gwen laughed again.

"I do hear that occasionally," she admitted.

"I hope throughout the castle whenever people hear that they take a moment of silence for persecuted Merlin's everywhere," Merlin said, putting his hand to his heart emotionally, thoroughly enjoying dramatizing his plight.

"Well, we do take a moment to be grateful we are not a Merlin," Gwen said, eyes twinkling.

Merlin pretended to consider this for a moment then shrugged.

"Close enough."

* * *

Gwen and Merlin parted company the floor below Morgana's room. The corridors were quite busy late-morning so Merlin walked up the steps and along the corridor to Morgana's rooms with long strides, though not too quickly. It was the well-practiced gait of somebody who was hiding something. His long stride spoke of purpose yet was unhurried, normal for a servant who was used to conserving energy for a long day's work.

There were two male servants dusting the rooms along Morgana's corridor so when Merlin got to her door he knocked then stood with his head dutifully lowered, awaiting orders.

"Come in," Morgana called, sounding imperious.

Merlin slid through the door and closed it quietly behind him. Whilst it would be improper for a nobleman to be alone in a room with Morgana it was not so with Merlin. The castle generally did not see servants as men or women, they were just servants.

"Merlin, hello," Morgana said softly when the door closed with a soft snap.

She was sitting at her table which was piled high with books. Another table had been dragged from the other side of the room to stand beside the first; it was also heavily laden.

"Doing some light reading?" Merlin asked in mild alarm as he stepped around a few random books lying open on the floor.

"These are books on politics," Morgana said, gesturing with widespread fingers at the first table. "And these are books on history," she pointed at the second table. "There are a few independent books here and there, but this is basically everything I could find that mentions druids, druidic culture and the history of Camelot's politics."

She nodded to herself and Merlin moved to her side, looking down over her shoulder as she opened a book balancing on the closest edge of the table.

"That is, everything I could find that wouldn't make the King suspicious should he learn that I am reading them," Morgana added, a slight curl to her lip like a dog with its hackles rising.

"Why are you reading all this?" Merlin asked, compulsively checking that the closed door really was closed.

Morgana frowned and leaned back. Taking the chair from the other side of the tables Merlin dragged it around so that he could see around the book mountains. As he sat down he sent a feeler of magic to the door. Morgana felt him do so and her eyes jerked into focus.

"The door handle will jam for a moment if someone tries to come in," Merlin said. It would give him time to start pretending to clean.

"You didn't say anything," Morgana observed.

"No. I don't need to most of the time, unless it's for a very complex or powerful spell."

"Is that-" Morgana stopped herself but Merlin had already seen the shape of the next word on her tongue.

"Normal? Not really," he said it with determined nonchalance. He was, perhaps, a little _too _nonchalant, because after a moment of looking at him keenly Morgana changed the subject.

"I'm reading this," she said, spreading her hands again to gesture broadly at the dozens of books before her, "to learn as much as I can about druids and Camelot before the Purge."

"Why?" Merlin tipped a book toward him and read the gold-print title. _Royal Bloodlines and Laws and Rules of Inheritance. _It sounded _fascinating. _

Morgana tapped a nail against the arm of her chair for a moment.

"The druid's council," she said.

"What about it?"

"The druids don't have a leader. Not like Camelot. They don't have a King or a Queen; they have a group of people. I was researching how the functioning of a druid council and it's…broader applicability."

"Broader applicability?" Merlin said slowly, "Do you mean Camelot?"

"Yes. Whether or not Arthur is on our side, if we are serious about causing actual, lasting change, we have to consider the future."

"What do you mean?"

"Say Arthur is on our side," Morgana began, making Merlin's stomach clench a little. "He becomes King; magic is legalized, happily ever after. Only it's not, because what if he has a son or daughter who becomes King or Queen, and they turn out to be another Uther?"

It was the first time Merlin had heard Morgana call Uther by his name.

"Arthur wouldn't let that happen," Merlin said automatically.

"Arthur wouldn't much say in it," Morgana pulled a large grey book out from under three others. Merlin caught them before they could fall from the table.

Tracing her finger down and across the page Morgana said, "You wouldn't believe how many sons and daughters have rescinded laws made when their parents were the ruling royalty. King William signed a Peace Treaty with what is now Cenred's King, but the moment his son Albert the Antagonizer became King he invaded. King Elliot started a kind of financial scheme for supporting or finding employment for the disabled, either soldiers injured in battle or people born that way, but then his daughter Queen Maria overturned it saying it was a waste of the Crown's money."

"What are you saying?" Merlin said, suspecting he knew but not quite believing it.

Morgana looked at him very seriously.

"Changing the laws for magic beneath one ruler makes no guarantee they won't be rescinded or changed in the future. To make Camelot safe for magic users we have to change the way it is governed."

As Morgana looked at him she had this look in her eye, this here-is-a-mountain-I-must-climb look.

"Morgana, fighting for equal rights for magic users is right; it's the moral thing to do. But fundamentally changing how Camelot is run? Because it would suit us?" Merlin raised one hand to gesture at that of Camelot they could see through the window. "It wouldn't just affect us, it would affect everybody. We have a right to defend ourselves and seek justice, but what right do we have to turn everybody's lives on their heads?"

"I don't suggest this on a whim, Merlin," Morgana said sharply, leaning forward. "I suggest this because there is no other choice."

"There are always choices," Merlin shot back.

"Okay, there are no other _right _choices. Inherited is flawed, surely you must see that? You're the one who keeps telling Arthur that just because he is royalty does not mean he is worth more or has more value then somebody born a peasant. The same reasoning applies here. What makes somebody born a Prince more likely to make good decisions then somebody not born a Prince? Why would nobility, who are born and raised surrounded by nobility, care about, or even understand, the problems of the lesser classes?" Morgana demanded.

"You care," Merlin pointed out. "You could rule Camelot."

He'd expected this proposition to surprise Morgana but she just shook her head like she had already considered it.

"You could," Merlin insisted. "You don't hate magic or magic users and you understand about the problems of the lower classes. You're probably one of the most knowledgeable people in Camelot in regards to laws and politics and you care about what's right and what's wrong."

"I won't deny that I have considered it," Morgana said. "But the problem of future rulers changing any laws I make remains."

"You would teach them that magic isn't evil."

"What do you think Uther was taught? He grew up in a Camelot where magic was free, he reaped its benefits. And still, the Purge happened. No, me being Queen is not the solution."

Morgana looked out the window thoughtfully. Merlin knew that a noble who didn't leap at the chance of power at the first opportunity they got was a good person to have on his side, but he still felt uneasy. Changing the rule of Camelot would be a massive undertaking and he couldn't imagine that it would happen without bloodshed. Whilst he understood the issue of magic and knew that indiscriminately killing those who had it was wrong the matter of Camelot's politics was not so clear cut to him. It felt too much like it hinged on personal opinion, much as the Purge had.

"Look," Morgana said, seeing the wariness on his face, "I'm not saying we do anything immediately. We need to talk to learn more about it and talk to more people. This isn't something to be contemplated lightly or done in haste. But the sooner we start thinking about it, the sooner we can decide what we are going to do."

"Hm," Merlin said. He thought Morgana was just saying what she thought would placate him but her words were carefully chosen and he couldn't see a way to argue. He could hardly say that they shouldn't contemplate it at all, for that was as close-minded as Uther refusing to consider that magic may not be evil.

Not seeing a way to break this impasse Merlin changed the subject, saying what he had originally come here to say.

"Arthur and me are going out on a hunt in two days."

Morgana looked curious but hadn't caught his meaning.

"_Just _Arthur and me," Merlin clarified significantly.

Understanding dawned on Morgana's face. She leaned forward.

"You're going to…?" She said, hushed.

"Yes," Merlin said firmly.

For the first time Morgana had unveiled concern on her face, unmarred by suspicion or calculation. It made her look young and surprisingly unlike herself.

"Merlin, I know you have a lot of faith in Arthur, and I'm not saying I don't think he is a good man, but…"

"Am I sure he's not going to turn me over to the King?" Merlin interrupted.

Morgana's face screwed up painfully.

"No," she said, sounding brittle and sad. "Are you sure he's not going to run you through himself?"

Merlin jutted out his chin stubbornly.

"I don't think Arthur will hurt me."

"Merlin, Arthur's been taught to kill sorcerers since _birth_. I love him, he may as well be a brother to me, but he is Uther's son."

Merlin noted for a second time that Morgana called Uther by his name. It struck him that since learning of her own magic Morgana must have embarked on a personal campaign to identify as Uther's ward, as opposed to a daughter or adopted daughter of any sort.

"Arthur isn't Uther," Merlin said. "He helped the druid boy, he cares for Gwen. He is not his father."

If people were defined by their father's Merlin would be nameless.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Merlin."

By the sound of her voice she wasn't just talking about physical harm.

"Neither do I, but I am going to do this. I won't start anything without giving Arthur a chance. We're friends, I owe that to him," Merlin said with an air of finality.

Morgana looked at him closely for a long moment; Merlin could see her eyes flicking from his right eye to his left and back again. Then, after her face had grown tired with whatever she had seen, she sighed and looked away.

"I can see I am not going to change your mind," she said.

"No," Merlin said needlessly.

"Would you like me to come?"

Merlin didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to come with you when you tell Arthur about your magic? I'm sure we could fabricate a reason I was joining you or I could follow along behind."

Morgana tapped a long nail on the page of her open book, probably already thinking of the means to do this.

For a moment Merlin couldn't speak. He remembered, instantly and completely, Gaius offering the exact same thing when Merlin had declared he was going to tell Morgana of his magic.

Merlin had always felt so alone that he had missed the moment when people started rallying behind him, rising to guard his back not for any personal gain or because they had to but merely because they thought it needed guarding.

It made him feel strange. It was like someone had struck him in the chest not in any attempt to hurt him but in an attempt to restart his heart.

"No," he said, voice thin. "No, Morgana…I…this is something I have to do on my own. But…thank you."

He knew what Morgana had offered. She had offered to take a risk after a lifetime of tiptoeing on glass. He appreciated the gesture more than he knew how to say.

Morgana pulled one corner of her mouth up into a defeated sort of smirk and nodded like she'd known Merlin was going to say that all along.

* * *

As he went about his usual duties for the rest of the day Merlin was surprised that he didn't feel more nervous. He was anxious about what would happen, what he was going to say and how Arthur was going to react, but he was also excited. He'd wanted to tell Arthur for so long and now he was finally going to. His secret, his grand deception, was finally going to be over. No matter what happened he was going to be able to truly look Arthur in the eye for the first time.

Of course Arthur might hate him. Despite what Merlin had said to Morgana he was aware of the very real possibility that Arthur might respond to Merlin's confession violently.

But he might not.

He knew the chance was small and minute and that he should preparing himself for the worst, but as Merlin served Arthur his dinner and they traded humorous quips and insults he couldn't imagine a world where he and Arthur were not friends.

* * *

Merlin's confidence lasted all of the rest of the day and when he went to sleep, all the way up until he woke the next morning, the day before he told Arthur everything. But then, as he jerked awake, slamming into consciousness, Merlin discovered that all of the previous day's surety had abandoned him. It had been replaced by panic. Raw panic.

Tomorrow? _Tomorrow? _What had he been thinking? Arthur wasn't ready, _he _wasn't ready! Tomorrow was way, way too early to tell Arthur, it was going to ruin everything.

Merlin scrambled upright too quickly, making his knees unstable and black spots dance across his vision. He swayed on his feet for a second until the black subsided and he could walk without falling.

The yellow sunlight that was soft and high upon his wall told Merlin that he had woken earlier than usual. Normally he got up when the morning bells chimed but fear had risen from his subconscious and cut his sleep short this morning.

Merlin dressed in a whirlwind; it took him three tries to get his shirt on and he almost forgot his boots. When he finally made it into his and Gaius' small kitchen he couldn't bring himself to make breakfast. The concept of eating food seemed foreign and strange, so he settled for making a mug of tea that he didn't end up drinking.

Gaius was still asleep in his cot in front of the dormant fireplace. Camelot was in the tail end of a warm Spring and they hadn't needed a fire to keep warm for some months. After warming his shaky hands on his mug for a few minutes Merlin crept out of the room before he woke his adopted uncle. He didn't know if he would be able to handle Gaius' worry today, or even Gaius' courage.

Camelot never truly slept and there were a few people already walking the castle's corridors. As Merlin had only ever been moving around this castle sporadically before he didn't know many of the faces he saw. Some of them knew him because of his role's proximity to the Prince, but not enough to greet him. Merlin was thankful of this. He was trying to calm himself down and find a way to work around his fear and it was taking all of his attention.

However Merlin knew the servants he usually worked with would be appearing soon so he wanted to avoid his usual places. He went to the stables. Not his usual stables, where Arthur's and other nobilities horses were kept, the stables where the knights horses were kept. Though they did not know him Merlin was welcomed, provided he did some mucking out. The staff of the knights' stables were well known for being welcoming to anyone willing lend a hand; there were quite a lot of horses.

Merlin mucked out stall after stall. It was a good job despite the smell. It didn't require too much thought and was just strenuous enough for Merlin to focus on the pull and strain of his arms, shoulders and back. This combined with the sleepy noises of the horses and their musky, dusty smell, allowed Merlin to work through his terror. He found himself on the other side of it, mind no longer catatonic.

He was still afraid, he had little choice over that, but he could be brave as well.

* * *

Though far from enjoyable, Merlin's day was tolerable. He took Arthur his breakfast and was able to behave relatively normal. He took extra special care to spill greasy bacon on Arthur's face as the Prince lounged in bed, eyes closed. Arthur yelled and failed and nearly overturned the platter in Merlin's hands, then spent the rest of the morning grumbling irritated asides about Merlin and the role the stocks would play in his future. It was easy for Merlin to play at fake innocence and friendly mockery, the hard, snide tone of voice he could use was at no risk of betraying him by breaking or wobbling.

When Arthur left for training with the knights Merlin allowed himself a few minutes just sitting on the floor in the middle of Arthur's room. He felt a little silly but couldn't deny the comfort just sitting there surrounded by Arthur's things gave him. Not knowing if he'd ever get a chance to do it again Merlin appreciated it while he could.

Arthur took lunch with his knights so it wasn't until dinnertime that Merlin got to see him again. He wasn't sure if he was glad that he hadn't spent the day with Arthur or unhappy that he might have missed his last chance at spending a day in Arthur's friendship. Even though it had been out of his control Merlin wondered if he would regret it.

Dinner was a quiet affair, Arthur being tired from his long day working hard in full armour beneath a bright sun. He still made a few comments deriding Merlin in general but Merlin could see his attention was on going to bed. Arthur dismissed him early and Merlin, wondering if he was being cowardly in doing so, left.

He was just so anxious. He wanted to sit with Arthur and talk, throw banter back and forth and making each other laugh, but he was sick with the idea of tomorrow. The knowledge that, come what may, it would all be over in less than a day felt like both a comfort and a curse.

Gaius had prepared Merlin's favorite meal, a simple dish of cooked vegetables with herbs and a fresh loaf of bread spread with some of their small supply of butter. Having skipped both breakfast and lunch Merlin found that he could eat dinner, though he knew he would've enjoyed it more if it hadn't felt so much like the last meal of a prisoner on death row. When Merlin had finished eating Gaius insisted he go to bed, he said Merlin would need his energy for his 'Big Day.' It made it sound like tomorrow was his birthday. Though he didn't feel remotely like sleeping he didn't feel like arguing either, so Merlin went to his room and closed the door. He then sat with his back rested against it like he had after the druid woman had been executed and listened to the muffled sounds of Gaius cleaning up and getting ready for bed himself.

Merlin kept intending to get up; after all, he really did need his sleep for his 'Big Day.' He just seemed unable to get around to it. It was just easier to sit there, head resting back against the wood of his door, watching the sky slowly losing its light through his small window. It went from light blue through a series of yellows and oranges and reds and purples until it had returned to blue again, a much darker shade. Beautiful though, for all its darkness. There might have been clouds elsewhere but through Merlin's window there was only the night sky and shining stars. It was whilst he was watching these stars and thinking how infinitesimally small they all were in comparison that Merlin realized there was one more thing he had to do.

He opened his door extremely slowly and peered out. Gaius was asleep in his cot, Merlin could hear him snoring. Creeping across the room Merlin slipped out into the hallway. The castle at night was lit by oil lamps. Even Merlin, who was so familiar with the stone corridors, needed them. Familiar places had a habit of changing at nighttime, becoming not so familiar.

There were a few servants about and a few guards patrolling, but Merlin just took on his purposeful-manservant walk and nobody bothered him.

When he got to Morgana's room for the second time that day the corridor was deserted. Merlin pressed his ear against door, listening carefully. If Gwen was with Morgana it could make for some very awkward questions. But he heard nothing from Morgana's room, so he carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

"Morgana," he called softly, conscious of the fact that Morgana was adept at knife throwing. "Morgana, its Merlin."

He moved away from the door to the right in the direction her knew her bed was. The curtains were drawn and the room was the colour of bruises, he could barely see a thing.

"Morgana," he said, a little louder. "Wake up. I really don't want to startle you and get an axe to the face."

He tiptoed a little closer. As his eyes adjusted he started to make out Morgana's white blanket.

"Not that axes to the head aren't great but-"  
Fire exploded beside Morgana's bed, two pillars roaring from the stone to the ceiling. Merlin staggered backwards with his arms raised before him.

"Morgana!"

Morgana was sitting bolt upright, hair flying in the wind of the flames beside her.

"_The letter_," she gasped, eyes wide and fixing on Merlin. Her irises were blazing gold.

"Morgana!" Merlin said again and stepped hesitantly forward. He had realized the fires had no heat, nor was Morgana's bed burning.

"_Merlin_," she said, tears streaming from her eyes, seemingly incoherent with grief. "_The letter_."

"I'm Merlin, Morgana it's okay, it's me. You're having a nightmare," Merlin hurried forward. A golden shield appeared between Morgana and the fires, then between the fires and him. Morgana startled back as Merlin's eyes flared gold and her runaway magic stuttered for a moment.

"It's okay," Merlin said again. He stepped over to Morgana as the fires fell away, leaving them in darkness. Yellow and red blotches clouded Merlin's vision.

"Merlin?" Morgana said dazedly.

"Sh," Merlin said and Morgana stopped moving. Turning his head Merlin listened with all of his might for sounds of alarm. Had anybody heard them? Was somebody coming?

"My closet," Morgana said hoarsely, hurriedly wiping away her tears.

"What?" Merlin's head whipped around, though he was still blinded.

"My closet, to your right. Get in it, go!"

Jumping away from her Merlin held his hands out before him. They banged into the closet and after a second wrestling with the latch he climbed in. Unlike in Morgana's room the darkness in the closet was absolute. Merlin's world was reduced to his panting breath and deafening heartbeat.

It would be just his luck to get caught in Morgana's rooms in the middle of the night hours before he intended to come out as a sorcerer. Of all the ways he had contemplated he might die, being executed after being falsely accused of assaulting the King's ward had never been one of them.

Trying to breathe as quietly as he could Merlin pressed his forehead against the closed closet door and waited.

After long enough that Merlin's pulse had time to slow he heard Morgana calling him and pushed out of the closet. His magic helped him unlatch the door, which did not have a handle on the inside.

"No one heard?" He asked.

"There's a reason I chose a room far away from the main corridors," Morgana said in way of response. She was out of bed and had pulled a long coat on over her nightgown.

"Why are you here? What's happened?" She asked, but Merlin was distracted.

"You said…something about a letter…" he said slowly.

"What?"

"When I came in and you woke up you'd been having a nightmare. A vision, I guess. You said my name, and then 'the letter.'"

"Did I?" Morgana looked honestly confused. "I don't remember that."

Merlin chewed on his lip. Whilst he no longer believed scrying and visions of the future controlled his destiny, he didn't deny that he thought the arts had some merit. Just because he no longer saw these visions as commands did not mean they could not give him advice.

"Merlin, the letter," he muttered to himself. He didn't know what it meant. What letter? Was it in relation to him, or had Morgana been saying his name because she had been looking at him?

"Sorry," Morgana said.

"No, it's alright," Merlin replied.

"Why are you here? Is it about Arthur?"

"What?" Merlin looked up, distracted from his musings. "Oh, yes. I mean, sort of. You know how I took you to meet the druids?"

"Yes."

"Well, I remembered that there's somebody I forgot to introduce you to."

And by somebody, he meant something.

* * *

"Kilgarrah, The Great Dragon," Merlin said, gesturing needlessly at Kilgarrah with the torch he held in his hand.

Kilgarrah shifted his enormous body on his outcrop of rock. His vertical pupils were narrow and fixated on Morgana.

After a moment of tense silence Morgana said in a strained voice, "Good evening."

Kilgarrah chuckled in a mocking fashion and leaned forward to see her better.

"Good evening to you as well, Morgana, Witch of Camelot," he said in a voice both grating and oily.

Morgana glanced at Merlin in alarm.

"It's okay, he knew about me too," Merlin said.

Kilgarrah snorted irritably and Merlin fell silent. The dragon was so big most of his body was lost in the cave's darkness, but many of his scales caught fragments of the firelight. He looked like sparks flying above a bonfire.

"You have turned off destinies narrow road," Kilgarrah said to Morgana. "You walking a winding road, where before you were fixed on a straight road, going down."

"What do you mean by that?" Morgana asked bravely.

Kilgarrah swung his head, claws scraping as his weight shifted.

"I mean," he growled, "I can no longer see the future in which you became corrupted and tried to tear down Camelot."

It felt like the bottom had dropped out of Merlin's stomach.

"What?" Morgana said, sounding like she had just taken a blow she hadn't seen coming.

"You still may turn to the Dark Side," Kilgarrah said thoughtfully, "though perhaps this time it will not be because Merlin tries to _murder _you."

"What?" Morgana responded too quickly and Kilgarrah grinned wickedly.

Merlin was absolutely motionless, he didn't even breathe. _What?_ Him? Murder Morgana? He would never…no situation could ever have made him do that!

"But that's by and by," Kilgarrah said, evidently pleased with the tension between the two humans, "let us talk of now."

Morgana and Merlin looked at each other, both unsure of what they were looking for and fearful of what they might see.

"You have been turning hard, to avert your fate," Kilgarrah said to Merlin. "I warned you not to. I warned you this would end badly."

"It hasn't ended badly yet," Merlin said, tearing his eyes away from Morgana.

Kilgarrah bared his teeth. "Yet."

Merlin glared at the dragon. Kilgarrah could be helpful when he wanted to be, but when he wasn't getting what he wanted he was a sideward, slippery creature. He was like a sword, capable of both causing them great good and great harm.

"I'm telling Arthur tomorrow," Merlin said defiantly; Kilgarrah's eyes glittered. "Nothing you say is going to change my mind, but I wanted to introduce Morgana to you just in case something goes wrong."

Morgana was still watching Merlin, he could see her face out of the corner of his eye.

"You are Emrys," Kilgarrah said, lingering on the word with a hiss. "The Prince cannot hurt you unless you choose it."

"It's just a precaution," Merlin said stubbornly.

Kilgarrah pulled his head back and flicked out his long, forked tongue in distaste.

"Very well," he said, settling back onto his haunches. "Far be it from me to advise you do not seek to have your head cut off. You are evidently confident of your wisdom in this fool's venture."

"Yes, well," Merlin said with a hesitant glance at Morgana. "We should probably be getting back."

"Do not think your starry eyes will save you," Kilgarrah said. His low voice echoed off the walls and rumbled through the floor. "You are the both of you forgetting that to return magic to Camelot the King will have to die."

Merlin looked back. Morgana squared her shoulders and looked up at the dragon.

"Can you, Morgana, Witch of Camelot, murder the man who has been like a _father _to you?" Kilgarrah growled.

Because he stood not a meter from her Merlin could hear the shakiness of Morgana's breath. However when she spoke her voice was loud and clear and hard.

"You're asking the wrong question, _dragon_."

Kilgarrah raised the ridges above his eyes in an expression of mock surprise.

"It is not a question of whether I am willing to kill the King," Morgana said. "It is a question of whether I am willing to let the King continue killing innocent people."

Without waiting for a response Morgana whirled on the spot and strode up the stone pathway to the cave's small door. Merlin waited a moment to watch Kilgarrah's reaction. The dragon did not speak but he did crouch low on his rock, eyes following Morgana with a keen and cunning interest. Merlin turned away uneasily and followed Morgana's path up the steps, leaving Kilgarrah alone in his darkness.

Just out of sight of the doorway Morgana was waiting for Merlin. The corridors were unlit here and Merlin carried the only torch. Morgana could have lit her way with magic but the risk was too great even in these seldom used passages. When Merlin appeared in the corridor she walked along beside him silently.

After a few moments of climbing the meandering hallways Merlin broke the silence.

"I know he seemed hostile, but he can be trusted. He's helped me save Arthur's life dozens of times in the past. I think he's just angry at me at the moment because I've stopped following destiny and his grand plan, but he won't stop us. He knows that if magic is freed so is he, once he gets over his ego he'll help us."

Morgana didn't reply. Merlin chewed on his bottom lip. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and he reached out, putting his hand on Morgana's shoulder and stopping her furious marching.

"Look, Morgana…about what Kilgarrah said about me…" He couldn't quite manage the words 'killing you.' "I don't know why he said that, I wouldn't hurt you. We're friends and…I don't know, he's tricky. He can twist things."

Morgana's face was carefully blank as Merlin spoke. The fire light made her cheekbones stand out with shadows straight as razors and behind the reflected firelight the colour of her irises was difficult to discern, making them look black as her pupils.

"I know you only told me about your magic because you felt you had no choice," Morgana eventually responded. "Without the right circumstance you may never have told me. I know I am convenient for you; I am a noble with magic. I am a great asset to the cause. I don't blame you, I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. I won't deny that what he said gave me a bad shock but I do not blame you for that either. You haven't killed me and I of all people know how unreliable and easy to misinterpret visions of the future are. In saying that, he seemed the sort to use the truth when he thought it would suit him, and there are grains of truth in scrying. So whilst I don't blame you I am going to need a little time."

Merlin nodded. It hurt, but it did not hurt as much as Kilgarrah's words did. Morgana was right in her assessment of Kilgarrah as one who would use the truth if he thought it suited his purposes.

Merlin was angry and frustrated with Kilgarrah. He had done what Kilgarrah had told him to for years and the moment he started thinking for himself the dragon reacted with scorn and antagonism. It didn't even make sense, what Merlin was doing would likely result in Kilgarrah's release much earlier than if he had followed his 'destiny.'

That dragon was impossible.

Merlin shook his head to himself. It didn't matter at the moment. He'd introduced Kilgarrah and Morgana just in case something went wrong tomorrow, or today, he was unsure of the hour. It didn't make sense to worry about Kilgarrah now. He should start preparing himself for the trial ahead.

When they got back to the main corridors, identifiable by their polished stone and decorative tapestries, Merlin doused his torch with magic and put it in the first oversized vase he passed.

"You should go back to Gaius'," Morgana said when Merlin stepped away from the vase, wiping his hands on his shirt.

"Yeah," he said.

"You probably won't see me before…tomorrow…" Morgana said. "And I want you to know that I stand by what I said before, but if you need me at all I'll be ready. If it goes badly, if you need anything, let me know. I can talk to Arthur and make him see sense, or I can get you out of prison and smuggle you out of the city."

"Thank you," Merlin replied.

"You've been taking 'precautions,' introducing me to the druids and Kilgarrah, but don't think that makes you expendable, Merlin," Morgana's voice was emphatic and Merlin could see that despite what had happened that night, she was concerned for him.

"I don't," he reassured her. "Don't worry, it will be okay."

He wasn't sure he believed what he had said, but he had had to say it all the same.

* * *

This was a great idea, Arthur thought as he swayed with his white horse's footsteps, breathing in the fresh Spring air. Yes, this was a rare instance in which Merlin came up with a great idea.

The genius in question was slightly behind him. He was not a very good rider and so always ended up on the more amiable horses that for some reason were generally slow. Merlin had been very quiet that morning. They had made an early start and Merlin had rather pronounced bags under his eyes; he'd never been a morning person. Arthur was still waiting for him to wake up enough to have a decent conversation. Until he did though, Arthur was enjoying a relaxing, purposeless ride for once. His hunting gear rattled against Merlin's saddlebags but it was more there for show, nobody was going to ask the Prince what he was doing when he had his large hunting crossbow strapped to his manservant's packhorse.

It was still early enough that the sunlight was soft and dappled and Arthur could feel the mist on his face. He sucked in a deep breath; the air was so cold he could feel it hit the back of his throat and freeze in his lungs.

It was magnificent; it made him feel more alive than the all too often stale castle air ever could.

"Hey Arthur," Merlin said from behind him.

"He speaks!" Arthur said in mock amazement, twisting in his saddle to look at Merlin. Merlin still looked slightly pale.

"Can we stop sometime?"

"Why?" Arthur looked closely at Merlin. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, no," Merlin said, looking down at his horses withers. The fingers of one of his hands were knotted in his horse's brown mane. "I just…want to stop."

Arthur sighed and asked in a matter of fact tone, "Do you need to urinate?"

Merlin looked up, taken aback.

"No, Arthur, I do not need to urinate."

Arthur shrugged. He'd dealt with enough green knights and injured soldiers to be desensitized to talk about bodily functions. Despite also having gone on patrols with new knights and working with Gaius Merlin had never seemed to develop such a tolerance.

"Okay, we can stop," Arthur said in a long suffering voice. "And you can go and stand in the trees, just out of sight, and enjoy the scenery for approximately the same time it takes to-"

"I don't need to go to the bathroom, Arthur!" Merlin said. He sounded like he couldn't quite believe they were having this conversation.

"Sure, sure," Arthur said. He waited for a moment, lulling Merlin into a false sense of security.

"Course there aren't any bathrooms out here anyway," he added after a moment. He was rewarded by a wordless grumble of exasperation.

It was hardly a sparkling conversation but it was better than nothing. Arthur congratulated himself on his amazing social skills.

They rode on for a few minutes until Arthur saw a small clearing on the right through the trunks of a few sparse trees. It was roomy enough for the horses to be tied with a rope long enough to graze. Arthur wasn't sure why they were stopping and so wanted to allow for a wait.

"Through there," he said to Merlin, ducking his head beneath a tree branch and pointing.

Arthur felt the right rein and guided his stallion around with his legs, picking their way through the undergrowth to the clearing. Merlin's horse followed behind them with a cacophony of breaking twigs and rattling equipment bags.

"How long is this mystery errand going to take?" Arthur asked Merlin when they arrived in the clearing. "A few minutes? Or should I set up the horses to be tied?"

"Probably tie up the horses," Merlin said, disembarking his gelding rather ungracefully.

Arthur dismounted and tied up the horses, removing their bridles and replacing them with headstalls for safety, as Merlin removed the saddles and propped them against a nearby tree.

When the horses were secure Arthur made his way over to where Merlin was standing a short way into the trees. Merlin was facing the clearing so Arthur knew he wasn't about to interrupt him relieving himself.

"Why have we stopped?" Arthur asked bluntly. He had been quite tolerant of Merlin's inexplicableness up until this point but did want to know if there was a legitimate reason.

"I need to tell you something, Arthur," Merlin said. His voice was steady but he was rubbing his hands together compulsively.

Arthur realized all of a sudden that Merlin didn't actually look tired.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, feeling the beginnings of trepidation in his stomach.

Merlin looked at him. His eyes were lined with worry but his jaw was set, resolute.

For an instant Arthur wondered what could have driven Merlin to drag Arthur out into the middle of the forest to talk to him.

Had he seen something? Was he in danger?

The knowledge that _something _had happened to Merlin to induce such caution without Arthur realizing made his eyes narrow and his attention flare wide. In the spanse of a second Arthur's mind raked over the past few days looking for any clues or signs that something had been wrong.

Without thinking he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword.

Had somebody threatened Merlin?

Merlin's eyes followed Arthur's hand to its position on his sword. If Arthur hadn't known better he would've thought Merlin looked…afraid.

"What's is it, Merlin?" Arthur repeated. "What's happened?"

When Merlin still didn't speak Arthur insisted, "Whatever it is I'm sure I can help."

At this, to Arthur's surprise, Merlin gave a small little laugh. This more than anything else set Arthur's nerves jangling. It had been a helpless sound, the laugh of somebody cornered. That laugh coming from Merlin's mouth made Arthur feel like the world was listing, taking water.

"Merlin," he said softly, removing his hand from his sword. He didn't know why Merlin was looking at his sword like it was a death warrant but he was, and Arthur wanted him to stop. "What is it? Let me help."

Merlin sighed, and then, eyes casting upward through the canopy to look at the sky, he seemed to make a conscious effort to pull himself together. From his sigh he pulled in a deep, steadying breath. He exhaled slowly, then inhaled deeply again.

On this next exhalation, he spoke.

"Arthur, what I am going to tell you is going to change some things, but I want you to know that I have always been on your side and I will always be your friend, no matter what happens."

Arthur blinked, startled. Merlin's honesty was so raw and unexpected that he didn't know what to do with it; he didn't know how to feel or react. He felt a tightness in chest despite himself.

When he didn't say anything in response Merlin scrunched his mouth for a moment and looked away. Facing the damp leaf litter Merlin nodded to himself. As he did so his eyes closed. They closed too long for a blink but just long enough to be a sign that he was summoning his courage for something.

Merlin then opened his eyes, looked at Arthur and said in a calm and level voice,

"Arthur, I have magic."


	5. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Hello readers,

I know we are not supposed to upload Author's Notes as chapters but I am going to put this story on hiatus, so I saw no other way to let people know as there will be no future chapters to footnote this to. Hopefully you understand and do not either report or remove this Author's Note. Thank you.

Now, as I just mentioned, I will be putting this story on indefinite hiatus. I am very sorry to people following it, I am not making this decision lightly and I hope you understand.

My reason for doing this is that this story is not working. I am NOT stopping this story because of critique, critique is good because it helps writer's grow and improve, the critique is caused by the same thing making me stop, which is that I just cannot make it work.

My problem is that I haven't seen the show Merlin in quite a while and so was writing more off the perceptions I have of the characters based on years of fanfiction reading and writing. Though some character development and deviation from the show is good I have built this story on shaky ground and can't find a way to continue without some integral part of it collapsing.

I could continue as is, but the characters are dissatisfying and incompatible with the plot, or I could radically change their behavior, but that would make them unbelievable and the story disjointed. Either way, it would be an unrewarding venture.

I have been considering this issue for some time, but the truth is that I am just not happy writing this story, and it's not fair to both me and the readers to write a story out of obligation, with no inspiration.

I did write on the story summary on my profile 'will not be abandoned.' I apologize for going back on my words, if it means anything I thought I was telling the truth at the time.

So the story is going on indefinite leave. I may resume it one day, or after some time has passed and I have gained some perspective I may decide to delete it from my account. Should this occur I will let you know and if anybody wants the word file I would be willing to email it to them (I believe you can't download stories? Not entirely sure, anyway, if you want the word file let me know.)

It's not much, but here is the first snippet from Part V that got written before I just couldn't continue.

* * *

"**Part V: Confession**

"What?" Arthur asked; he hadn't quite caught what Merlin had said.

At his question Merlin grimaced.

"I have magic," he said very distinctly and clearly.

Arthur blinked a few times in surprise, then smirked, ready to laugh.

But Merlin wasn't laughing. There wasn't any of his usual good humour in his eyes, or the expected bated mockery of a joke in progress. Instead he was just standing in front of Arthur with this look on his face like he was bearing his soul.

Arthur's smiled slipped a little.

"Merlin," he said cautiously, and then, low and hard, "that's not funny."

"It's not a joke," Merlin said. "It's the truth. I have magic. I was born with it and I have had it my whole life."

"I'm serious Merlin," Arthur said sharply, furiously holding on to the possibility that this was just a terrible joke because the alternative was unthinkable. "That's not funny. That's the sort of thing that could get you arrested in Camelot."

"I know."

Merlin sounded so vulnerable and serious that Arthur took a step back.

"Would you like me to prove it to you? That I have magic?" Merlin asked.

Arthur didn't answer; he just breathed and watched Merlin with a roaring sound in his ears. He was still desperately waiting for Merlin to start laughing, to take it back and say it had been a joke, trying to ignore the sickness he felt rising in his throat.

Merlin raised a hand palm up in front of himself. Through the whole movement he seemed to be waiting for Arthur to tell him to stop. He didn't though; there were no words in his brain.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said softly, and then looked down at his open hand.

Arthur wanted to keep his eyes on Merlin's, but couldn't stop himself from following Merlin's gaze.

"Leoht," Merlin whispered.

And he did magic.

He _did magic_.

There was a ball of light in his hand, burning off nothing, reflecting off nothing, just an unnatural iridescence shining from nowhere.

Arthur's hand, which still rested on the pommel of his sword, seized the metal convulsively. He did not stagger back and he did not charge forwards, he just stood there starring at the little light that changed everything."

* * *

Again I would like to sincerely apologize. I appreciate the interest and passion expressed by the readers over this story and I hope you can understand my decision.

Thank you,

~Olivebranchstories


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